The letter arrived on a Thursday, which seemed wrong.
Evander had no rational basis for this. Letters arrived on Thursdays with the same frequency they arrived on any other day. The post came at half ten, sorted by the carrier who had been doing this route since before Evander started at the shop and who knocked twice, always twice, and left packages on the step if no one answered quickly enough. Thursday was not a significant day. It had no particular weight in the architecture of his life.
And yet.
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