story 4.2

The postcard was carefully addressed to Bob Oshawat, c/- her hometown, Route 1. It was he who had suggested that she venture outside of her territory.

I'm having very good adventure. I'm so glad I answered the advertisement for cheap accommodation. I'm so lucky my room has a magic wardrobe. I'm so glad this world doesn't have any snow.

Bobbi shivered reflexively. Her journey encompassing the avalanches still chilled her to the bone. She banished the memories from her present.

I wonder what I can give Bob as a souvenir? Some things don't travel well. She mused darkly about samosas. She sighed. It was a shame. It was truly a magnificent samosa. Maybe some other sort of kitsch? Manuka flowers?





The postbox was somewhat taller than she preferred. However she was prepared. Crampons on, rope slung, she clawed vertically to the postslot and inserted the purpose for which she came. Now she free-styled down to the pavement, successfully.

Bobbi made a pirouette, and finished with a right-handed upstretched 'V' sign. "Oh yeah!" she crowed.

"Congratulations," a familiar voice politely congratulated her.