hate mail.

I hate the fact that I was the one to hand over the envelope. 

“Jim, I found this in the outgoing mail slot, but it has your mail stop number….did you forget to address it?”

“no, i didn’t send anything out…” Bewildered, he takes the envelope and proceeds to open it while I continue to sort other mail.  Out comes a page from a newspaper written all over with red marker.  It says DIE on it with a swastika.  The newspaper has a picture of soldiers, the bastard that sent it drew crosses over the soldiers’ faces.  Jim just returned from a two-year tour in Iraq. In the short time I have known him, I have come to learn that he has a warmer heart than most other people I have known. We both look at it in stunned silence, then he quietly folds it and walks back to his office.

I have never been so close to that kind of extreme hatred.  And I didn’t know what to do except say sorry for the disgusting coward that sent it.