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Timons Esaias

Postal

The clerk dropped the envelope on the scale and said, "Is there anything perishable, flammable, incendiary, cadaverous, explosive, hazardous—"

"It's a short story," I said. "They're always dangerous."

Gingerly, he lifted the envelope off the scale and slid it back to me, unstamped. He shook his head no. Just once.