The letter was an important one. The boy knew that much. His mother didn't send much correspondence. In fact, she had to explain where the mailbox was at first. The boy had never been sent there. He had merely observed it in his daily comings and goings, placing no more significance on it than on the tree down the street from it or the fence alongside it.

His mother patiently explained where to find the mailbox and exactly what to do to ensure the letter was delivered. He clutched the letter close to his heart as he walked down the deserted streets. The last snowstorm had barely left and the world was covered in a sheet of white. He took pleasure it stomping new tracks through the snow but remembered his mission.

Reaching the mailbox, he stood on tip toes, gently placing the letter into the opening and releasing it into the world. He stomped back purposefully, eager to tell his mother of his success but when he reached the door, he hesitated at the doorway.

He turned around and examined the world. A solitary car ambled down the street, turning up slush and snow in its wake. He saw the neighbors shoveling snow out of their drive and looked at their own drive. The car was covered in so much snow, it was hard to tell it was there. He had tried to shovel but the thick snow was too heavy for him to move out of the way.

"Darling, is that you?" He heard his mother call from inside. He opened the door and went inside. One of the dozens of cats rubbed up against his leg and he absently petted it as he made his way toward his mother. The newspapers were piled above his head and he darted through them with skill. His mother was waiting for him.