Dear Reverend Stephens,
I know you think that lab-grown organs are a sin. But please just don’t preach about it in your sermon tomorrow. You can do it any other day–just not on the day where my mom has to sign off on my surgery.
PO Box 159 at the Brooksdale Post Office is a bit unusual. Every week, it receives letters from many different people from many different times in the future. Many times, the letters are well-wishes and advice from the loved ones of people of our time. Other times, there are dire warnings.
No one seems to know how or why these letters started coming to PO Box 159. They simply appear. The future these letters describe seems to be in constant flux; one day the year 2098 sounds like a dystopian hellscape, the next day a letter will appear describing a garden of Eden.
Emma Reilly, the owner of PO Box 159, shares the letters she receives through this blog every Tuesday.