Dear Taylor,

It was me. I was the one to steal your formula. And I did it because you were such a bully to the waitstaff at that lunch place we always went to. I just won the Nobel for it. So I’ll be generous and send this to you in the past. You have another chance–publish your work before I do. And don’t be a jerk.

-Me

*****

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 (mostly) every Tuesday.