“This is the letter I was telling you about, Postmaster.” Lila held out a letter with tongs in his direction. It was old-fashioned, seemed to be made of vellum and folded in on itself rather than in an envelope, and most importantly seemed to be dripping a reddish substance despite being sealed with actual sealing-wax.

“Mail cannon bleed,” Postmaster Chapman said. “It’s probably just water-soluble ink.”

“Small creatures keep being drawn to the bl—the liquid,” Lila said. “Cockroaches, spiders, even that one rat Smith has been trying to catch. They just come out and lap it up. I think we should call someone.”

“Call who? The hospital, to test it for bloodiness? No, put a ‘return to sender’ on it and be done with it.”

“And…keep it here? Overnight?” Lila said, nervously.

“We’re the post office, Lila. We handled that pallet of manure someone tried to ship to the governor. We can handle one letter. And mail does not bleed.”

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