twenty-four
twenty-four
Brooke: Hey, checking in. You ok? Did he write back yet?
Noor: I’d just call him.
Sunny: No response. I’ve called him, I’ve left voicemails, voice notes. I left him a four-page-long handwritten letter, apologizing, spilling my guts, in my mailbox, addressed to him. Nothing. It’s in there every time I pick up new mail. Untouched. I feel like absolute shit.
Brooke: What about a stakeout?
Noor: Omg, yes. We can set up lawn chairs in your lobby and wait him out. He’s the mailman . He has to show up, rain, shine, or fight with his soulmate.
Sunny: “Soulmate.” Idk about that.
Noor: You two are meant for each other.
Sunny: How could I do that to my “soulmate”? WTF is wrong with me? I’m an idiot.
Brooke: Sun, we all fuck up. We do things for weird reasons.
Sunny: What if I don’t deserve him
Brooke: Stop beating yourself up and go get your man. Stakeout! Stakeout!
Noor: Respectfully, Sunny, you are being an idiot. Of course you deserve him.
Noor: Co-sign w/ Brooke on stakeout. I’ll go to Target right now to buy beach chairs for your lobby. Don’t tempt me with a good time.
Sunny: That’s one of the weirdest things, guys. I haven’t seen him in my building. Believe me, I’ve tried to run into him. I saw another mail carrier in our building on Wednesday, though. This woman I’ve never seen before. I think he switched routes…