"Do you want to have a coffee?" I blurted out.
"What did you say?" asked the postman surprised.
"I wonder whether you want to stay for a bit for a coffee," I continued with a stronger voice. I was not sure back then but after repeating the offer, the question sounded right. I met the postman more often than the postcard man and somehow, the postman started to become like a friend. A familiarity that emerged through seeing each other, even only though distance.
The postman looked a bit hesitant before he nodded. "I only have 6 letters left. I can stay for a bit."
It was strange to invite a stranger to your place. But is the postman a stranger I wonder. Probably, he was the only person who knew my obsession with the postcards. I told my friends that I have stopped expecting them but I could not. Only the postman knew the truth. A kind of a secret pact between me and him. No one knew and since he was half a stranger, I felt it was easier to talk to him. I liked the anonymity between the two of us. Probably, inviting him for a coffee would break our bond, he would no longer become a stranger to me and I was not sure I wanted that. But I did not want to be alone. Not after the empty postcard. A code for me to move on.
He wore a dark blue coat. I took it from him and hanged it next to the door.
"I will boil the water, you can sit there, while eating some cookies."
Outside the cloud started to pour waters. Rain. My favorite. And a stranger in my house.
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