"That's funny. It's not supposed to rain until tomorrow," I said.
Alexander drew back the metal door. "Be my guest."
I stared into the rusty mailbox, which was as dark as any tomb.
I half expected to see a detached hand holding out a letter. This was, after all, a vampire's mailbox. But I saw nothing,
"Are you afraid? It won't bite. But I might", he said, tickling me in the side.
"You promise?" I giggled as a few more drops of rain tapped me on the head. I imagined I could get snapped by a bird protecting its young or a field mouse hoping for a snack, I took a deep breath and reached my black chipped finger-nailed hand into the dark box but felt only aspiderweb . I reached in farther, allowing my ashen palm to disappear until I couldn't even see my Eve L wristband. Then I felt something pointy.
"It's not a package", I said, yanking it out. I had grasped a single standard-size black envelope.
I held it toward the streetlight. The letter lookedodd, First of all, there wasn't a stamp, or even a postmark. Perhaps I had been right about a fang-toothed flying mailman. In perfect beautiful silver calligraphy it read: MR. Alexander STERLING.
As I handed the envelope to my boyfriend, a few sprinkles of rain hit the letter and the ink began to run.
"Looks like I'll have to drive you home," he said resignedly.
Alexander tucked the letter into his jacket and took my hand and we raced up the mile-long driveway, escaping into the Mansion.
I stood in the foyer of the magnificent Mansion. Lavender wafted through the estate,A new portrait of me stared back, a substitute for one of the original portraits that once lined the hallway.
"There's no return address", I remarked, smoothing out my hair.
"I recognize the handwriting."
"Really?Then who is it from?A long-lost girlfriend?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"I bet you get millions of love letters from old girlfriends."
Alexander placed the envelope on a hallway table. "Wait here while I ask Jameson for his car keys."
"Aren't you going to open the letter?"
"Eventually."
Alexander was patient and disinterested. I was neither.
"You must tell me who it's from," I said, snatching his mail. "OrI'll open it," I teased.
Alexander paused. "It's from my parents."
"Really?"I asked, surprised.
It had been ages since Alexander's parents had been to Dullsville, and Alexander rarely spoke of them. Most of the time, I forgot they existed.
"Well, open it up," I pushed, handing it back to him. "Maybe they sent you a check."
Alexander took a white gold S-shaped letter opener lying on the hall table. Unlike me, who ripped open mail like a wild animal, Alexander carefully severed the envelope.
He opened the black letter, which had abloodred border. A check didn't fall out. Not even a Romanianleu .