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Send me a letter Someday

As Pedrosa sat in her Puerto Rican hell hole of an office, she noticed that her fingertips had started to blacken from the ink. She had been sitting there for what seemed like days, stamping the envelopes with today’s date and the ends of her fingers looked like bruised bananas. After roughly every 2,000 or so stamped envelopes had been completed a strange-looking man from another room would come in and take them away. Pedrosa didn’t like this. All her hard work had been moved out of sight and there was no longer a reminder of her best endeavours. Her desk was once again empty, it was like she hadn’t done anything and that depressed Pedrosa even more than the fact that she felt trapped here in this sweltering ‘business’ complex against her will. She didn’t even know where she was and that worried Pedrosa. She began to stamp away again for a few more minutes until she heard yelling from one of the other rooms. It sounded like a deep, stern, bellowing voice and Pedrosa did not like it, not one bit. Without warning, the door to the room crashed open and a fierce looking general stood there enraged. His face awash with anger, his hands full with envelopes.

“You stupid, incredulous woman!!” he shouted at Pedrosa, “These all have the wrong dates on them!”

 Pedrosa was stunned.

“But Senore, I do not know what day it is. I have been locked up for many, many weeks.” She began to sob.

She took the time to stare down at the date stamp and noticed that she couldn’t read it because it was back to front as she looked at it, so she pressed it against the back of her left hand to see what the date was. It read the 1st of March 1702.

 She stared back at the general, “Ahh, I see”.

Copyright That Omega Kid 2011

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