Return

Deep gurgling was the only sound to fill the kitchen. Jonas had been falling asleep when the wet grumble stopped abruptly and a shrill ding startled him from his half-sleep. It had been a rough night, and Jonas hadn't gotten much sleep. Not that he ever got much sleep. Coffee was what he needed, but he wasn't sure he would have the strength to stand and get it.

Jonas eventually dragged himself out of the brown recliner and toward the coffee maker. Too tired to put in any sugar, Jonas hadn't realized he'd missed a step until he took a sip. After that, he was definitely awake enough to put in his typical four packets.

Jonas didn't bother to change out of his bath-robe before getting the mail, since his mailbox was mounted to the siding next to the door. All that was visible to his neighbors in the aristocratically set suburbs in which he lived was Jonas' arm, swiftly but blindly reaching out and pulling the mail out of the box.

Back at the dining table, Jonas leafed through the mostly junk-mail income of the morning paperboy route. A Kohl'sCash booklet -- trash. Geico deals -- trash. The old-timey equivalent of spam e-mails -- trash. But at the very bottom of the pile was a well worn, gray envelope, adorned with a stamp featuring a sunflower, and Jonas' address hand-written on the front.

After a few moments of looking over the front, Jonas flipped it over and tore open the flap. Inside was a small, hand-written letter in the same hand as the front of the envelope. The writing was readable, but clearly written at the hand of a man, judging by the lack of cursive-esque loops on the L's.

Dear Mr. Jonas Hall, (the letter read)

You have wronged me deeply. You must return what is not yours or I will take it, and you won't see me coming.

Seeing you soon,

- S. B.

Chills ran down Jonas' spine. Questions ran through his head, begging for answers that just weren't there. He didn't really think the writer was serious, so he resolved to send the letter back in a new envelope using the return-address.

The letter returned in another envelope weeks later. Jonas didn't open it and was about to toss it into the trash can, but that was when he noticed a small blood stain on the corner, as if the envelope had been dipped into a puddle of blood. What was the return address again? Jonas thought. The back of his mind worked at it for a bit, and it finally pulled up "165 Highland Avenue, New Jersey". Jonas knew that was it, but that didn't seem right, since the return address on this envelope was now from his neighbor's house.