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Weekly Contest #240
“You’ve got mail again, Seymour,” Marv said to me as I walked into the post office. I sneered, wiping at my dripping nose. “Who from?” Marv’s bushy eyebrows lifted over dull eyes. “Who do you think?” He said, offering me a damp scrap of bark from the pile on his desk. I grimaced and took the note from him, shoving it into the pocket of my drip coat and making my way into the back room. Persha bleated angrily at my ankles. She hated it when her fur got wet. Which was ironic, since she always seemed to walk under the lamp...
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