[Starr Ayers] Love Letters

I can still hear the rumble of the mailman’s car and the screech of its brakes as it pulls in front of our house, the scrape of the mailbox’s rusty hinges when opened, and the hollow metal twang as it slams shut. As the car pulls away, I see my younger self racing down the drive, hoping to find an envelope addressed to me, a letter from someone I love.