Bandage rode his green postman's bicycle through the streets and alleys.
Many people had died on the Outer Island, so the volume of mail had decreased significantly. Despite this, he still meticulously performed his duties.
Only one letter remained in his green mailbag. After this delivery, it would be time to head home.
Just then, the voice of a middle-aged man lying on a recliner and reading a newspaper reached his ears.
"Damn it! The sea level is really rising. Those bastards from the Light God Sect! If the Pope were standing right in front of me, I'd shoot him dead!"
SQUEAK.
Bandage squeezed the handbrake, stopping his bicycle in front of the last customer's house.
Before he could stuff the final letter into the mailbox, the wooden door, inlaid with colorful shells, opened, and an elderly lady with graying hair walked out.
"Don't put it in the mailbox, young man. Just hand it to me. Is it addressed to a Johnson?"
