Post Office Novels & Stories

I love you guys so much and hope you reply soon. Love, Maxine Star. P.S: hope the fire doesn't scare you too much besides I hate the post office.

"What about the police, firemen and paramedics? Do they have cars or trucks?" "Yes. You'll see them on the streets sometimes. Those services are provided by Knox County, and paid for by our property taxes. We have a police station, fire station and hospital in town." "What about deliveries from the post office or UPS or whatever? Are their trucks allowed in town?" "No," Crystal replied. "There are eight mail centers located around the edge of town. All deliveries go to the mail centers. Everyone has a mailbox at one of the centers, and there are lockers for bigger packages."

Ernest said. Don sent it that afternoon, walking it to the post box at the end of the lane — the same post box where he had sent every piece, every letter, every acceptance and query and response. The post box was a Victorian pillar box, painted red, with the royal cipher of the monarch who had reigned when it was installed. Don had looked it up once: the box had been installed in 1897, the year of the Diamond Jubilee. It had been receiving letters for more than a hundred years. Don liked the continuity of it.

One thing led to another, and they ended up near the ancient forged iron gate as far back as the endless empty lot in the backcountry toward the abandoned post office, which was once home to so many letters but had shut down. “Is there another functioning post office?” Eliot asked, looking through the trees under the scalding sun, probably trying to ask the right question of the owner’s son. “Yes, there is. That is how we receive the letters you and others send.” “Of course, how silly of me?” He smiled.

‘OK, OK, don’t blow a gasket. If you pop in in the next day or two. I’ll dig out my chequebook.' ‘Pop m? Ryan, there’s this thing called the Post Office. You stick things in envelopes and put them in letterboxes. They’re the big red things in the street, with large openings about the size of your mouth.* It was dark when they landed at Seeb International Airport, but even so the heat felt like a warm blanket.