The Letter That Turned a Quiet Street Into a Neighborhood Puzzle
The morning began like any other—sunlight creeping through the blinds, the smell of coffee drifting through the kitchen—until my parents stepped outside. They expected junk mail and routine. Instead, they froze. Dragged across the side of the mailbox, in thick, uneven strokes, was a single letter: M. Not centered. Not careful. A mark made by …
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