The name seems so familiar, yet I don’t believe I’ve ever heard it in my life. The old, worn envelope that looks like it was purchased years ago doesn’t contain a return address, or the address of this Henrietta person. Just the single name. I shrug and gather it with the rest of the mail.
Walking inside, the letter radiates an odd feel. I can almost hear the letter calling to me, begging to be read. Begging to deliver its message. I shake off the feeling. I’ve never believed in such nonsense, and I’m not about to start. It’s just a silly letter …. with a weird name …. and an envelope that seems older than my mom ….
“Snap out of it!” My angry voice echoes across the neighborhood. Great. The neighbors probably think I’m crazy. Wouldn’t be the first time somebody’s assumed that. I watch a cat streak past me into the Larson’s house. Even the animals don’t want anything to do with me.