Tale from the Pony Express

This morning's mail call was the worst kind of publishing fake-out.

Sitting on the kitchen counter for me when I stumbled into the kitchen to make my coffee were two envelopes: one from my bank (most likely yelling at me to stop buying plane tickets) and one from a magazine whose short fiction competition I entered last month, with a prize of £2,000.

*cue heart pounding*

*cue palms sweating*

Way back in high school, the college application process instilled in me that that thin envelopes are bad (since it only takes a single sheet of paper to reject someone) and thick envelopes are good. Today's envelope was medium-sized. There were clearly multiple sheets of paper in there.

I tried to wait until I was back in my room to rip it open, but only made it as far as the kitchen door.

...and it was a subscription advertisement.

Far too dramatic a way to begin a lazy Saturday.