The man finished his letter and folded it, hands red with the pain of writing a 3-page letter in 30 minutes. His eyes grew weary as the light above him constantly flickered on and off. He walked out of his dirty apartment into the dirty outside with the envelope containing his letter.

He walked crookedly to the post box and opened the hatch, making a sharp creaking noise. There was a shout and looking back, the man saw a robbery. About three hostages were there, with worried looks on their faces, tears streaming slowly down their faces. The man looked at the post box again and before he could put the envelope in, a bullet, possibly from the burglary passed cleanly through his left temple and out his right. It was too sudden for him to yell in agony, and the last thing he saw was the top right corner of the envelope. ‘No stamp required if posted in Australia’, flecked with drops of his own blood.

Two men sat across each other at an old, nearly broken table. The room was tiny, damp and dirty. Cracks littered the walls and the place looked like it would fall apart. The two men smoked cigars while playing a game of poker. There was no money involved and one look at the table would tell you who was winning, the older guy.

Finally one of them spoke, “King high, I win”.

The other person was shocked, “How did you know what I had?”

“Like I said, I’m a professional.”

“Well I’ve searched everywhere around the site where he died, but I was unable to retrieve the letter.”

“Everywhere?”

“Everywhere.”

“Even…In the post box?”

There was a silence in the room. The younger man walked out of the room, staring at the floor.

(Flashback)

“I have details of a man who has some dangerous information on me, and I suspect that he will send a letter to this boy with that some of that information. I want you to watch the man and you must retrieve the letter at all costs. I have a few weapons if needed. If retrieving the letter was not possible, then you must kill the recipient before he is able to receive it. Do not fail.”

(Flashback end)

A woman and her son were in the living room of their luxurious mansion. The woman was going through the mail while the boy was lying down, feeling the futile attempts of the air conditioner to destroy the scathing heat. The woman handed the boy an envelope with blood at the top right corner. The boy ripped off the top of the envelope un-coordinately and read the letter. As soon as the letter was finished being read, there was a whiff of smoke in the air and then suddenly, the mansion burst into flames. The boy ran out, dropping the letter in the process. His mother, however, didn’t make it.

The two men were inthe same room as before, but, they weren’t playing poker. The older one looked very displeased and the wrinkles on his face grew deeper.

“So despite committing mass arson and having a rifle at your disposal, you were unable to kill the recipient nor retrieve the letter, I guess you’ve failed.”

The boy heard a gunshot and a thump, but didn’t seem to care as he sat on the hill, blazing fire behind him, and sunset in front. The wind blew some ashes to the ground in front of the boy, his father’s destroyed literary life blackening the grass. Two tiny pieces of paper were there, though, and the boy read them aloud “End The, oops, I mean The End”.