Envelope

I arrived home late, as usual, there was no one waiting for me so I had no reason to arrive early. Especially as I knew that my troubled sleep would not come easy. I checked the letterbox, out of habitude, to empty it from publicity mail, all my bills were electronic and I had no one who could write to me. There was a single white envelope with my name written on it, no address, no sender. That activated all my alarms, I knew no one could enter the building without the code and that had clearly not been delivered by the postman. I checked the exterior and the interior doors for signs of forced entry but saw none. Still, that didn't mean anything. 

Warily, I got out of the building to see if there was something strange in my flat. I lived on the third floor, facing the street, so it was hard to get a view of it. I was not expecting to see lights on or anything too conspicuous, but maybe there would be something that could show me if someone had been inside. Of course, I saw nothing. A voice inside me insisted on the fact that if someone had broken into my place with the intention to find me inside, they wouldn't have left a letter outside of it. I calmed myself and reentered. Before climbing up the stairs, I took off my high heels, trying to be as silent as possible on those creaky old stairs. Nothing seemed amiss with the door of my apartment, yet I opened it carefully, ready for anything that might come from inside. Yet, it was calm. 

Only then, I realize that I had been clutching the letter. I left it on the kitchen table as I took off my coat and opened the window to let the cold winter air in. With shaking hands, I lit up a cigarette, a habit I had taken up after the Pont Neuf incident. I sat on the window sill, my dress riding up to the top of my thighs. The street was quiet, even for a weekday at the 5è arrondissement. I told myself that it was later than usual, also. When I finished my cigarette, I lit another, calmer then, ready to read that letter that had sent my anxiety levels through the roof. Inside the envelope there was a thick card with a simple message "J'ai aimé votre travail au Pont Neuf." Followed by a place and a time, no date.