The Steady Running of the Hour

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The letter came by courier last week.

I knew when I touched the envelope that it was fine stationery. I knew from the paper, the porous surface of pure cotton rag; the watermark that shone through as I held it to the light. The letter is in my bag in the overhead compartment, but I imagine the cream fibers, the feel of the engraved letterhead. Twyning & Hooper, Solicitors, 11 Bedford Row, London.

The courier knocked at my door, the letter and a clipboard in his hands. He asked for my name.

— It’s a special service, he explained. The sender requested we check ID.

I showed the courier my driver’s license and signed the delivery bill. He set the letter in my hands. On my kitchen counter I pulled the plastic zipper of the express envelope. Inside there was a smaller envelope of cream bond stock.

I read the letter standing over the sink.

Dear Mr Campbell,

I am trustee of an estate of which a substantial portion remains to be distributed. Information has recently come to light that suggests a significant connection between you and the named beneficiary. As we could find no current telephone number for you, we have despatched this letter to your listed home address in the hope of making urgent contact.

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