“Hey, you know how my parents have a Post box?”

Shannon, my best friend sat in front of me idly picking at her fingers.

“Hm.” I spared her a glance, relinquishing the death grip that a video of a dog singing to ‘Abba’ held on my eyes.

“Annika I need you to actually listen dude,” the girl had died her hair blue last fall, and a few faded strands fell to the table as she ran her fingers through ...