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YOLO, Kayla Conner thought as she gazed at the clock upon the drab gray wall, her long, angular jaw resting in the upturned palm of her hand. She sighed, blowing a wayward strand of dirty blonde hair away from her face, and leaned heavily on the countertop; her elbow was sore as fuck, but she didn’t trust her neck to support the weight of her head.

You only live once, and her you are, wasting your life.

God, she was tired. She hated Fridays. Sure, it was the last day of the week and all, but it was also her day to open, and the Pico Mundo post office opened early. Six in the morning, every morning. She didn’t get it. They barely did any business anyway (which is why hours were being cut), and never anything before nine or ten. The Post Master, however, was old school, stuck in the days where snail mail was the shit. She liked Don enough, but dude was old fashioned.

Get with the times, grandpa, she thought, and smirked. Sounded like something he’d say. Groovy, daddy-o.

“Fuck my life,” Kayla sighed. She looked longingly out the window across from the counter; the day was hot, bright, and dry, like they always were in Pico Mundo. The last time it rained was...after that mall shooting? She couldn’t remember. She knew it was a loooong time ago, which was fine with her. She loved the desert. If it were up to her, she’d be out there with her boyfriend right now, sitting around a bonfire and drinking cheap beer. But no. She was here in the stuffy-ass, sleepy-ass post office waiting for four.

Ding!





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)