You scoop it up and haul it inside, sensing something legitimate despite the extreme oddness of the situation. Carefully, you pry it open. Inside is a shoebox -- sent from ten years in the future -- and it's filled with items you have sent yourself.
What's in it?
I pried open the lid of the box to find two envelopes and a very nicely knitted crème slouch hat: The first letter was plain, white simple stationary with “Jill” written on the front and “Read This First” scrawled across it in what I recognized as my own loopy script. The other envelope was a rather dusty and dirty business sized affair, with a cancelled stamp and other markings signifying it had made its rounds through the mail. It was addressed to me.
Dear Ms. Haugh,
Thank you for your recent query regarding representation, which we have now had an opportunity to consider. Unfortunately, I don’t think our agency is going to be a right fit for your manuscript. Many thanks and good luck in your endeavor.
Bigdeal Literary Agency