His selflessness strengthened our unique connection. But he was just like me; a criminal, a convicted felon and a floater at the bottom of society’s tepid pool of filth.
Trusting me, he turned back to the mailboxs and inserted his letter into the one on the right. He turned and saw that I was still standing there. I don’t know why I didn’t just leave. Part of me wanted to make sure he didn’t encounter any more hurdles. Just before turning away, I said, “I’m sorry about – ” He interrupted by saying, “No problem. It’s okay.”