1.
It was put through the front door. Put through that brass trimmed rectangle small enough to keep out the worlds. The letterbox is far outside. I do not go to it. In the space under the door and online necessary links are maintained. But this package is different. It is not an invoice to pay or a manuscript to edit. George has pushed it into a corner with her nose.
One more try. She widened her mouth, lifting the corners in the same way that they did, but it still didn’t look right. Something was off, she just couldn’t figure out what; the teeth perhaps? She closed her lips, but that just looked worse.
(Oh well, no time to perfect it now.)
She moved away from the mirror, put on her new coat (bought especially for the occasion) and squirmed. The shop attendant had claimed it was a perfect fit, but it felt tight and restrictive. The sleeves were itchy too. She took it off, put her old one on, and checked the address again before setting off.
literally stories 