"Hey, what's up kid?" asked the mailman. The window muffled his voice so I opened it. It turned out that the voice was naturally muffley. "Where's yer parents?"
            "They're in the oKmart!" blurted the kid carelessly, smiling at the mail man. The gangly creature sitting in the mail truck wasn't my normal carrier. He must have been new, or maybe there was a shift in the mail rotation, but he definitely wasn't the swarthy blonde haired woman who had been delivering my mail for fourteen years. I reminded myself that changes like that were possible and now socially accepted, at least secretly.
            The man responded. I stayed open minded.
            "Why're you outside here all by yourself? Didn't your mom n' dad tell you about strangers, kid?"
            "Yup, I'm supposed to run away if they try to touch me."
            "Exactly," concurred the mailman, giving a double thumbs up. "And what's the parameter for candy?"
            "I say ‘no,' scream as loud as I can, then yell that my mother is being raped."
            "Good, so you're going to school. Uncle Sam would be upset if you were missing school. Let's see what I got for you. You know what positive reinforcement is, kid?"
            "No."
            "How ‘bout a piece of candy?"
            "Candy?"
            "Yeah kid, candy. Here you go, on the house kid."
            The boy's eyes lit up proportionately to the mailman's arm stretching out towards the child. The tension rocked like a canoe, building and building, suddenly flipping over and revealing the anti-climax. He showed his empty palm.
            "Sorry, the candy must be in the back."
            "The back?"
            "Yeah kid. Hey, you know what else is in the back?"
            "Mail?"
            "Yeah, good job kid. I got a whole bunch of mail with your name on it."
            The mailman winked.
            "Highlights Magazine?"
            "Yeah, go ahead and hop in the back and get it. You're a sharp one."
            "Thanks uncle Sam!"
            The child picked up his magazine and waved goodbye to his uncle Sam.
            I went back to my own business and got back to my chores for the day. Dishes, laundry, vacuuming, shopping, mail: My draft number was 459.