They sat down in a pink vinyl booth and sucked down one Diet Coke after the other.

“My name is Holden, Holden Rice. I’m a musician, on my to California. I’m meeting my friend Matt and his manager…well, I was anyway. Until that crazy woman robbed me. What did you say your name was?”

“Mary Jane,” she said, swatting a bug away from her face, “I’m on some kind of spiritual journey. Apparently you are my target.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” he said.

“Well, supposedly I’m supposed to help two people, the owners of the objects, and help them find love or something ridiculous like that,” Mary Jane said, blankly staring out the window and the cloudless sky.

“Weird,” Holden said, “So what’s the other object?” Mary Jane held out the piece of envelope and he studied it.

“This is weird,” he said.

“What?”

“This zip code, its the same as Matt’s. And this stamp…its the same exact stamp I got a couple weeks ago on a letter from his manager who refuses to only correspond by typewriter.”