Because I had gone twelve seconds without understanding that the marking on the front was also a lie — that not at this address was written by a mail carrier who had been told by a woman at a door that no such person lived there, in a house where my name was on two accounts and a car title.

“Read it,” Jessi said.

“Now?”

“You’ve had it in your hand for four minutes.” She stood up and picked up her mug.

“I’m going to go and put a film on for him.

Read it in here.”

Part Nine: The Letter

Four pages, both sides on the first three.