The mail slot opens at the front door. A single letter is pushed through and lands quietly on the tattered rug in the living room.
There is a silence followed by some shuffling from behind the door.
Today Mint didn't meet Mailwash at the door like always.
Mailwash's shuffling and fiddling with their bag is heard again from behind the door.
Mailwash's face gradually turns to one of unease when she thinks about how unusual a situation this is. Mint always meets them at the door and offers them a cup of tea.
They take a deep breath in and then knocks on the door three times.
A few seconds pass then a soft thump is heard from inside the home.
Mailwash exhales and then looks at their shoes.
From the edge of her vision she notices that Mint's shoes, which always sit on the doorstep, have been thrown haphazardly into the grass, completely covered in mud and something black.
Mailwash knocks again, a bit louder this time.
"Mailwash here! Is everything okay?"
...
Silence.
Mailwash reaches for the knob, something they've never done before. They try the knob but it's been locked.
"Mint doesn't seem quite like the locking type", they think.
Maybe something happened to change that.
Mailwash looks at their watch and then at the door for a bit longer.
They let out another small sigh and then steps down from the porch and into their truck.
Another day.