The Courier
 

He carried a mailbox backpack and traveled the world on foot, receiving anonymous letters of concerns and sorrows.
 

Among the modern crowds he stood out due to his old uniform and a beret on his head. He could never change out of them, whatever modern clothes he put on it would change back to that set of clothes.
 

Every step he took he whistled, attracting all those with concerns and loves that they could not let go. And they secretly send away their concerns upon his back, forcing him to carry it everywhere he goes.
 

At the end of the day he dined on those letters to keep himself as an existent on Earth, for he was keeping a promise, to meet again in one hundred years.
 

To meet who? He had slowly forgotten, the person’s face, the person’s name, was it even a person that he was supposed to meet in a century?
 

Doesn’t matter anymore, the full moon was bright, a light for him to read the many heartaches from human.
 

Each letter dissipated into fireflies and fluttered across the meadow after he imprinted them in his heart.
 

His heart became heavy by the time he emptied the backpack, and he started his steps again, for each step would lighten his heavy heart.