I’m expecting mail. The contents will either shatter my heart or set it passionately ablaze.
There’s also the chance the sender is returning a dress of mine. If so, that’d just be a waste of postage—and then would make me question why they couldn’t wait until they saw me again—UNLESS THEY WERE PLANNING TO NEVER SEE ME AGAIN, hence the aforementioned shattering.
Who knew the mail could be so anxiety ridden? Postal workers who went, er, postal?