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  continued
| Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six |
        The moment the spirit faded, Madeline sat up, flicked on the reading lamp, and reached for the paper pad conveniently kept at bedside. Lips pursed, neck taut, she scribbled, crossed out, and tried again. The final product was a beauty.
 Dear Mr. Post Office Box Number ____

      I've watched you secretly day after day. I've seen you picking up mail and delivering packages. If you desire a full-bodied, angelic,  and sophisticated woman, please respond immediately by postcard to Box 148. Lick my stamps, baby! 

 -- Your Secret Admirer
       Hmm. The full-bodied part is an understatement, with sophisticated perhaps a stretch. And that come-on at the end is pure Sixties. Although Madeline prides herself on being a critical editor, she ignores her rational impulse and leaves her  inspired text intact.
       Now the fun part. She randomly chose five numbers, between one and two hundred, corresponding to the boxes layered across the west wall of the West Brunnersville Post Office. 
       Lucky numbers 38, 97, 122, 169, and 185. The men of her dreams. 
       The following morning, Madeline dressed in her favorite plaid kilt, with the big brass pin keeping the wrapped fabric from showing any thigh. She spritzed Windsong, tweezed a few eyebrow hairs, and shredded several pairs of stockings while experimenting with an ankle bracelet. 
      After a quick call to the HyperDial office and a convincing complaint about menstrual cramps, Madeline Suggs embarked on the day that might change her life. 

 
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