He came again in the morning and, as always, he didn’t ring his bell on his bicycle. He opened the fence and knocked on my door again. When I opened the door, he was standing there offering an envelope, a small one. He said congratulation and then I asked him what it was for. He didn’t answer and proceeded to his bike and went away. He took right turn at the nearest crossroad and vanished.
I closed the door behind me and went upstairs to my room. The envelope was sent by one of my former colleague and it turned out to be an invitation for a wedding. I was surprised and a moment later I was on the phone with my friends talking about the wedding and we’re thinking of making small reunion group. The sender didn’t mind of my idea. I was replied with go ahead.
While having conversation with former classmates, he came again, the postman. He told me that I had a mail that had been waiting for almost two years. He didn’t say what kind of mail it was but his expression was different when he was delivering the invitation. Surprisingly, the mail wasn’t only for me but for a friend too. After we got our mail, he went away after saying mi dispiace. We’re looking at each other realizing both of us didn’t even know what had happened two years ago.
The mail contained a death certificate and a location of cemetery. It had a name inscribed, a name which made us speechless, a name of one very dear to us. Well, that was a surprise. Tomorrow? I said to him about going to the location mentioned on the mail. He nodded but it turned out we could go on the day after the next day. It wasn’t bad since the traffic was slightly better than the day we got the mail.
We still wondered how and when. Maybe there were a lot more question than that. I asked a few comrade of mine about the death but it seemed not many knew this for a fact. Everything seemed consistent with feed from social medias. Then we’re standing before his tombstone realizing how old we had become and how young our deceased friend was. Death is inevitable.