Letters Across the Universe
I always imagine this old, grim looking man wearing a tattered leather hat and a matching coat. As he enters a small postal office on a faraway mining planet, a tiny bell rings. The lady behind the desk looks up, staring at the mysterious figure standing in front of her. Smoke escapes his mouth.
Why it is always the man, looking like a hero of the ancient times, and an old lady behind the counter, I don't know. Maybe it's because I want to relate to him, even idolize him a little. Or because this picture just seems epic.
Anyways,
"Put out the 'cig", the lady says in a rough voice, pointing to three metal plates hanging on one of the wooden walls. All of them show the same symbol, a red cross on top a lit cigarette, but only one of them has English text beneath: "No Smoking".
The man grunts. He flicks the cigarette onto the rough wooden planks on the floor and, before the lady can share her disfavor, a heavy boot stumps onto it, suffocating the flame. The man takes a few more steps to the counter, the eyes of the lady resting on him, readily observing. Then, he speaks.
"I have a letter."