Ultra Mailer Review

Then he put it on the mantle, next to a dusty porcelain figurine of a mail carrier that his mother had given him when he took the oath, forty-two years ago.

But the label had written itself. And the letter had found him.

She was old. No—she was young. No—she was both at once, like a photograph double-exposed. Her hair was white and black and red and gold, depending on how Arthur’s eyes tried to focus. Her uniform was blue, like his, but the badge on her chest read SORTING . ultra mailer

Inside, the house was bigger than its exterior. Much bigger. The foyer alone was the size of a high school gymnasium, its walls lined not with portraits but with mail slots. Thousands of them. Millions. Each one labeled with a name and a date. Arthur saw John F. Kennedy – 11/22/63 . Marie Curie – 7/4/34 . Genghis Khan – 8/18/1227 . Some slots were empty. Some were overflowing with envelopes of every color and material. Some glowed. Some wept.

He saw everything.

“I’m a mailman,” Arthur said aloud, to no one. “I deliver the mail.”

And his fingers passed through it as if it were smoke. Then he put it on the mantle, next

On the front, written in a script that seemed to glow faintly gold, was an address: Arthur Kellerman, 147 Potter’s Lane, Dry Creek, CT .