Priority Mail (2)

"Quite a pile," the mail elf said.

He was not joking. It was a large sack that he struggled to lift. Then he realized that it would not fit though the window.

"I'll pick it up at the door, " I suggested.

He smiled, then grunted as he began dragging it away from the window to the door from the mail room into the lobby. The door swung open, and he tugged the bag through.

"Thank you," I said brightly, picking up the bag. It was heavy, but not too bad for me. Still, I pretended that lifting it was an effort just so he wouldn't be embarrassed.

I headed out of the post office, Nendia glued to my side.

"Special requests?" She squeaked. "Oh, but Bucky ...."

"Yes, remind me. You have an agreement?"

"Oh, yes," she panted, trying to keep up with me.

I slowed down.

"We work in the doll factory," Nendia said, adding with obvious pride, "I'm in charge of legs."

"Ah," I said. "Legs are important."

"Yes, yes," she gasped, still trying to keep up on her own pudgy legs. "Bucky makes arms."

"So you work as a team," I suggested.

"Oh, oh. But that is the agreement. Together. As a team."

"So what is the problem?" I asked.

"She works too fast. Arms Arms. More Arms. I can't keep up. She agreed that we would keep pace, but she keeps making more and more. Then she just leaves. She doesn't wait for me to finish."

She finished the last outburst with a squeak, and several gasps for air.

"Have you spoken to her?" I asked.

"Oh, I, Oh."

I stopped. She took several deep breaths.

"I ... I, yes," she said with what sounded like a combination between a squeak and a sob.

"Tell you what," I said. "Why don't we go in to the big house so I can drop off this mail? And we can get some hot chocolates."

More to come ...