Deception

I raced down the driveway, full speed in my Goodwill-but-new green and blue plaid rain boots and my corduroy fall jacket, heading straight for the black mailbox at the end of our crescent driveway.

Out of shape and out of breath, I reached the mailbox in record time and pushed a stray strand of fading red hair behind my ear and flipped open the box.

Empty.

Without a second’s pause, I raced right back up the driveway and swung into my living room, shouting quickly, “Nope!”, before discarding my boots and placing myself back at my computer, still in the warm coat. After all, we still haven’t turned the heat on.

It occurred to me that passersby might assume I was looking for a letter of acceptance.
It also occurred to me that I probably wouldn’t mind the assumption.
No, bad Riah.