Anybody Out There [antikvár]

Prologue There was no return address on the envelope, which was a little weird. Already, I was slightly uneasy. Even more so when I saw my name and address. The sensible woman would not open this. The sensible mman would throw it in the bin and walk away. But, apart from a short period between the ages of twenty-nine and thirty, when had I ever been sensible? So I opened it. It was a card, a watercolour of a bowl of droopy-looking flowers. Andflimsy enough thatlcouldfeel something inside. Money? I thought. A cheque? But I was just being sarcastic, even though there was no one there to bear me and, anyway, I was only saying it in my own head. And indeed, there was something inside: a photograph Why was I being sent this? I already had loads of similar ones. Then I saw that I was wrong. It wasn't him at all. And, suddenly, I understood everything.