#OriginalFiction – November 23

“That’s a lot of assumptions you’re making, Minuet.”

Dorian almost never used her full name. She looked over at him as he pulled the car into the diner parking lot. “What do you mean?”

“Well, one, you are assuming the guy these letters were sent to got them, and he left them in that shack. But the letters might never have been sent. The cousin she mentions giving them might have hidden them there. Her father might have caught on and actually hidden the letters there. Or she might have lost her nerve and never sent them, and hidden them there later.” He shut down the engine and turned to face her.  “And all of that assumes those letters were written in this town, that by figuring out what the plants were, and who owned them, you can figure out who the girl was. But what if she never sent the letters, but moved here from somewhere north, and buried the letters herself. What if the guy she sent them to did get them, and after the war couldn’t bear to go back to his hometown and settled here. The people referenced in those letters could have lived anywhere. Maybe not even in this country.”

She frowned. “But how else are we supposed to figure out who they belong to? Don’t we have to make some assumptions?”

“Sometimes, sure. But we do have to be aware that we’re making them. But maybe the letters themselves aren’t the key to finding out who they belong to.”

Mina slumped a bit in the seat. Damned older brothers and their being right. But if the letters could not tell her who they belonged to, how was she going to figure it out. And she was certain the magic meant for her to return those letters to someone.

“Look, I’ve got some errands to do in town, and maybe I’ll go poke around the historical society. I’ll pick you up after your shift, okay?”

Damned older brothers and their being right about things and then being nice about it. She nodded and put on her waitressing face. “Thanks, Dorian.”