What Had, What Has, I Have

Magnus struggled with the buttons on his new vest. Button, then unbutton, button again and then undo. The slip and thread of the wooden discs moving between the fabric became too difficult for him to be effortlessly indecisive as his hands were sweaty in the heat of September.

He had figured that the colder months would have allowed him to wear thicker clothes, but every year, like the ones before, September held onto that lingering touch of sunshine that was more annoying than ever. He loved autumn and could not wait for the struggle to breathe frozen air and be alert for frostbite.

Nevertheless, the weather was not prepared for his preferred style of clothing, and the post office would not be any more merciful on a day like this.

He rushed inside and quickly undid all his buttons before sitting down in his booth. Already he saw people fanning themselves while they waited in line to send letters and packages. Between each customer he had planned to sneak a fan for himself with the envelopes before sending them to the sorting room. He would not have forgone his decorum any other day, but there was not a worry that someone would sneer at him, for they too would be missing their papers to cool themselves down with.

Receive letters, collect payment, send to the back, and cycle again. Magnus was exceptionally lucky that day to also receive packages more than usual. “Lucky” indeed. Mathilda in the booth next to him had asked much more politely than she normally was if he could take care of the packages for her. The baby strands of her bangs had begun to stick to her forehead. Out of politeness and friendship, he had agreed to take over her packages as well.

In ten minutes, he wanted to curl up on the floor for what little cold could be absorbed from the tiles, no matter how muddy and disgusting it was.

Magnus had a moment to loosen his tie and roll up his sleeves as a young man was carrying in a large wood cask. He ushered the boy to around the back of the front counter to process the box. They weighed it and exchanged the payment and receipt before the young man had rushed out of the post office as if he did not want to stay any longer.

Magnus was a bit stupefied at the boy’s reaction but thought little of it as he had to send the package to the back room. He had not even grasped the cask when he felt a sting of frost seep through his fingers straight to the blood. He pulled his hand back quickly but found nothing discolored or reddened when he examined the frostbite that he was sure he felt. No frozen metal was outside the cask nor was there any mist emitting from the cracks that might have caused a chill.

Gingerly he had tried again to pick up the cask and found nothing cold about it, other than that it had not been outside in the sun for long.

Hauling it back to be sorted was much too quick for his liking. It was cooler in there than the front office, but to his discomfort, he was assigned up front.

It seemed that the heat had slowed down in the time that he was in the back room, it seemed to have darkened as well. Magnus sent a silent thank you to the clouds blocking the light for having given his heat-tired mind a breather.

In twenty minutes, the crowd had lessened in the office as the morning had passed and the early rush had dried out. Only Mr. Free had come in to send a letter, but once he left there was no one for a while. Mathilda had a stretch and walked around behind the counter to take in the cooling air.

“Ahh, finally! Dear Lord, it was much too warm in here before. Although I am better off working today than fanning myself in my tiny apartment that faces the morning sun.”

Magnus stretched his arms too and leaned back in his seat. “On days like this I picture myself as a boy on the lake. I can practically taste the water and smell the reeds.”

Soon after their little respites, a customer came through the glass doors with a package. Mathilda made sure to point at Magnus. He shook his head while smiling but kindly received it from a nun who unnaturally was curt and stiff for her sweet looking features. The good lord must have favored his devotees that day as the nun seemed to have been left untouched by the heatwave.

The package was a leather trunk used for immediate travel. Artists and many wealthy elites used it to carry their canvases or frilly garments while abroad.

Thankfully it wasn’t as heavy as the last one, that is until Magnus lifted the trunk and dropped it loudly on the floor with a thud. His entire hand and forearm stung from his muscles seizing up and contracting. He bent over and held his arm for a moment to bring warmth back into it.

He quickly looked to the nun to accuse her of attempted assault, but when he looked up, he only saw her leaving through the glass doors. In shock and slight anger, he had looked down at the other booths but found that none had noticed what occurred.

He breathed out with a huff and composed himself when he noticed a new crowd of people coming from the street.

Thirty minutes passed and another lull of the office settled, only it was not as lively as the one earlier. The clouds had completely swallowed the sun in that time and almost all the heat from the post office was gone.

Magnus buttoned up his vest to the top and bottom. He could hardly have believed that it was still the same day as the morning he experienced.

Mathilda clenched her hands in warmth and Stanley who was in the booth next to her had bundled up in his raincoat that he brought with him every day. Magnus himself had started to shake a bit. Never did he think that he would miss the morning of hell.

The distant clang of the town clock had rung in time with the ring of the office bell over the door.

An old man in a sweater and mittens dragging a black metal crate wrapped with a chain to leash it walked through the doors that seemed to open as he passed.

In disbelief Magnus stared for a second but snapped out of his daze and stood up to help the man. He held a part of the chain and pulled the crate towards the back of the counter; however, he had forgotten that the scale would not be able to measure such a large package.

The two of them pushed and pulled the crate into the back next to the scale and exhaled as they stood up. Magnus rubbed his back in pain and sat down to manage the payment and write the receipt. He estimated the weight payment and settled for 30 lbs., but he surely believed it to be more.

The old man thanked him in a dusty voice but had a sweet smile with his missing teeth. Once he took the paper he hobbled towards the doors and left the building, but Magnus had not caught which direction the man went.

He turned to the crate and stood behind it ready to push it to the back room, but when the tip of his finger brushed the black metal, his chest clenched up and he fell to the floor. Curling up to find warmth he found none and suffered through the burning cold that seared his entire being.

For 40 minutes he had stayed on the floor waiting for the pain to pass, and it had enough to allow him to find his seat and rest in the booth.

The sky had turned into night, but faded rays of sunlight told the world it was still day.

Everyone in the post office could see their breath in a frozen mist. Mathilda left not long ago without punching her card. Magnus would have left too but he held his work ethic too closely. He had instead rested his head on the counter and focused on counting any number that had come to his mind. The doors opened, but the bell must have frozen as well since it had not rung.

A little girl came through and held in her hands a letter with a red wax seal. Her dress was not styled for the cold, but her uncovered legs did not shiver or clench as she walked. She smiled at Magnus and on the counter, she slid the letter to him, just shy of touching his fingers.

He sighed, which released a white puff of air and left him feeling not a drop of warmth in his body. He shuddered violently to where his neck tendons were protruding and pulled at his temples.

Still, he tried to do his job and received the letter which sapped all his energy upon its touch. He shoved it away and looked at the girl.

“What has happened to me?”

She smiled and tilted her head. “Life, my kind sir. Life has waxed and waned from you until the final pass over the sands of time, and now that you remember, you can read your final thoughts.”

She had pushed the letter towards him again. That time he read the seal and saw the print of a thumb. He looked to his own hand and saw red wax on his right thumb.

After he took a breath, Magnus broke the seal and read the contents of the letter, all in his handwriting.

“To time

My body withers faster than the memories that I make. Those summers where I missed the cold of autumn and early falls where I remembered the playful ripples of the lake are rushing quickly to my mind. In their approach I am remembering the week I spent on a steam engine for the first time by my lonesome. The loose rabbit running up and down the carriage had annoyed me at the time, but now it amuses me to no end. I am certain I saw a rabbit sometime after that, though I cannot remember. The image must have not been meaningful enough to bring along with me to the bright sun that is nearer and nearer the more I see in my mind.

I must find the words to thank you. During your presence in my life, I had found characteristics to hate about you, now I appreciate this small pocket of your attention to give my gratitude for showing me that amidst anger and sadness, I have collected a collage of colors and shapes that appeared since my birth. Colors that contour my spirit and shapes that form the letters of ‘Magnus’.

As a farewell request, give me a cold hard slap before I come into the clouds. I doubt that I will remember my appreciation for you, for words have a way of escaping once they are out of your hands.

                                                                                                                             From Magnus”