Chapter 12: A Borrowed Voice

Inside the post office lived a faceless postman.

He said he had once been human, but after keeping too many secrets for too many people, the secrets had worn his face away. He told the old man the wind had not lost its way. It had been held in place by a letter.

"Which letter?"

The postman lifted his blank face as if listening to the tide far off. "Your own."

The old man remembered that when he was young he, too, had written a letter, and at the last moment torn away the name of the person meant to receive it.