Your day hasn’t been great. Really, it sucked. You were late to work, had overtime, and worst of all, you forgot to mail a bunch of cards and bills that need to be mailed by tonight. So now, you trudge to the small, green, graffitied mailbox as the sun sets. However, as you’re about to pop the mail into the slot, a woman clangs the side of the box. She looks dead; pale, messy hair, sunken, black-lined eyes, and an all white slip dress. “You know mail doesn’t get picked up on Sundays, right?”