You wander down a deserted street under a sky too dim to see the stars. The air is thick with silence, broken only by the soft rustle of papers carried on a gentle wind. Ahead, a figure stands beneath a flickering streetlamp, silhouetted against the mist. A postman’s uniform, crisp yet oddly timeless, drapes over a frame that seems both real and unreal.

He steps forward, hands full of letters, each one addressed to someone — and yet, strangely familiar. As he hands one to you, you notice your name scrawled on the envelope in a hand you don’t recognize.

“I deliver letters from all across the many dimensions that exist far away from here... Do you wish to see what lies inside? Could be a portal, future you, forgotten memories...who knows.”

and with that, he just walks away, leaving you with the mail in your hand, begging to be opened