The Graham Post Office clerk stood behind the counter with a limp do, a do that had tried to repair a previous do, but had left her instead with hair the color of nothing. Like worn carpet.
She seemed run over in years of past pain and present unhappiness, as she acknowledged no one in line. But glanced occasionally at the next patron with indifference and a smile rusted shut.
But I didn’t need much. Just to send a single manila envelope to Texas.
And stamps…yes, stamps.
“Could I…” I started.
“JUST the Santa ones,” she tersely informed.
I looked again at the advertised selections. “So you don’t”….
“JUST. The Santa ones,” she butt in, as my clarifying question had clearly been answered a second ago.
So the Mary and Joseph…”
She snarled, “JUST THE SANTA ONES.”
At which time I asked when she thought the Mary and Joseph stamps would be in.
And she calmly grimaced, “Next week.”