She walked outside her townhouse into the steamy, misty heat of St. Louis, exhaling and breathing in a mouthful of hot. It took more energy than she wanted to expend to step into the world today when all she wanted to do was sit in her balcony office that overlooked the forest of trees and ponder the letter she received in the mail yesterday.
How in the world did a letter that was written for her before she was even born managed to be hidden away on the other side of the country and reach her now? What is she supposed to make of the words etched in ink on the parchment paper, carefully folded and sealed in an envelope? Why the strict instructions to not know the identity of the person who mailed it, not to even know the gender or any other identifying marker except they have been her "benefactor?" This was just a little too much crazy than she wanted to deal with on a day that was promising to fulfill those predictions of global warming, just another St. Louis summer.
She shook her head, pulled down her Mark Anthony Collection sunglasses and sighed, it was too early and too hot for her head to travel down the question trail. Perhaps her friends she was meeting for morning coffee would tell her to just shut up and accept what the letter said. She couldn't let it go so easily, it made her feel like her life was being orchestrated and directed by someone else and perhaps her choices were not her own. What did it mean that her mother decided that this person would be her benefactor and set aside all this money for whatever she needed? She moved around a few times from childhood to adulthood, how did this person find her, was there a tracking device in her dreads?