Lola skipped down the sidewalk, her sparkly shoes making it look like she was wearing stars on her feet. Her plaid jumper was rumpled and the white shirt underneath it stained by grass and grape jelly. One thick brown hand carried a crumpled white envelope in her fist.

“Hey, Mister!” She called to the elderly postal worker bent over in his truck. He gave no indication that he had heard her. In one swift motion he straightened and slid into the driver seat. The little truck shuddered to life.

“Hey, Mister Postman! Wait! Wait!” Lola yelled frantically. She hurried, changing her skip to a full-fledged run.

The heel of her shoe caught on a crack on the sidewalk dragging her off balance. Stumbling in clumsy, awkward steps, she crashed into a mailbox bruising her collarbone and banging her knee against the sidewalk.

Helplessly, she watched as the mail truck pulled away from the curb and drove away. Everything hurt but it wasn’t until she looked at the crumpled envelope still in her hand that she began to cry.