One day a strange man knocked on my door. I peeped on him behind the curtains, but I didn’t answer and I didn’t let him in. The man looked to the left, looked to the right, looked behind and threw himself into the house through the mail slot. I found the strange man lying down in the narrow hall, with his back against the door. He kept rubbing his head, while his size, consistency and shape fluctuated, getting smaller or enlarging himself, turning slightly square with pointy corners. “This is quite unusual” I told myself.
– What is unusual? the strange man asked.
– You. Who are you?
– I am a letter.
– Where do you come from?
– I don’t know.
– If you are a letter, you leave a place and have to reach another. What is your destination?
– None.
– It is not possible. Who sent you?
– I sent myself.
– To whom?
– To you.
– Why?
– Because I am a letter.
– Can I read you?
– Yes, but it is better to ask question, I can talk, I am an audio-letter.
– Letter, why did you come?
– Because I am a letter.
– A letter carries a message. What is your message?
– None, whatsoever. But I have reached the destination.
– That is not enough, tell me the reason.
– There is no reason.
– I will send you back then.
I returned the letter, stamping it on the left upper side corner, throwing the man out through the slot mail. In a few days, early in the morning, the strange man came back, knocking at my door. I peered again behind the curtains. The man looked to the right, looked to the left, then behind and threw himself in through the mail slot. He made a terrible noise, bumping his head on the walls in the very narrow hall. I went to the door and found the man lying down, his back against the wall, rubbing his head and a knee. He had a blue stamp on the left side of his forehead.
– Who are you?
– I am a letter.
– Why have you come back?
– They sent me back again.
– Who sent you?
– I don’t know. I was only told the destination address.
– What message are you carrying?
– I don’t know.
– Can I read you?
– If you like … Wait, do you cut the envelope with a knife, scissors or you rip it off?
– It depends on the letter. Why do you ask?
– Please, be kind, don’t rip me off …
– Why should I be kind to you? I am not obliged, I could rip you off if I wanted to, no doubt about it …
The strange man started to sob and cry, while shifting his shape, size and consistency. He turned very white, square, pointy at its corners, flat and thin. The tears were dripping down his white, papery face, soaking the stamp.
– Don’t cry, you will disintegrate yourself.
– I don’t care.
– I will return you, again.
I stamped his upper right corner and pushed him out through the mail slot. After a week, there he was again in front of the door, I saw him from behind the curtains. He knocked on the door three times, looked behind, to the right and to the left, scratched his head and threw himself inside through the mail slot. I heard him falling down, bumping his head and feet against the walls. It was a terrible noise and the shoes shelf broke, scattering the shoes all over. I went there and found him, his feet up against the wall, his head downwards, with two blue stamps on his forehead, one to the left, one to the right.
– Who are you? I asked him.
– I am a letter.
– Why have you come here?
– Somebody sent me.
– Who sent you?
– I really have no idea. He stamped me and sent me here.
– Why?
– To give you a message.
– What is the message?
– You have to read it.
The man completely transformed himself into a letter, a normal letter, white, square and flat, lying down on the floor. I took the envelope, cut the enclosed part with the scissors and took out the letter. The paper was empty, nothing written down on it. I put it back, sealed the envelope, stamped it in the middle and threw it out through the mail slot. Two weeks passed and the man was back in front of my door, I noticed him from behind the curtains. He coughed, scratched his head, moved back and forth, tried to look inside the house on the window. Then he threw himself inside within the mail slot. He fell down again in the narrow hall, hitting his head on the wall. I discovered him covered by a pile of shoes, rubbing his head and knees. He had three blue stamps on his forehead, one to the left, one to the right and one in the middle.
– Who are you?
– I am a letter.
– Who sent you?
– An anonymous.
– Does he have a name?
– Not that I know.
– What does he want from me?
– He wants you to read the message, said the strange man, completely transforming himself into a letter, white, square, flat and pointy, lying lifeless on the floor.
I ripped the envelope, took the folded paper out and opened it. The message was I want to meet you. No name, no time or space coordinates. “This is crazy”, I thought. I cut the letter in small pieces and threw it away. The letters stopped, but whenever I walked down the street, I thought somebody followed me. I looked behind, looked to the left and to the right, nobody there. When I started walking again, I could clearly hear the stamping of another pair of feet behind me.
Comments