The line in the post office goes all the way back to the door, with everyone staring at the guy standing listlessly at the one open window. He shuffles his sandals over the linoleum floor, scratches his nose, shrugs, while nothing seems to happen for a long time.
Then, another window opens with a bright, friendly chime, releasing us all from our stasis, and the line begins to move. Even the guy at the window seems to come back to life, as the woman behind a thick layer of plexiglass hands something to him, and he looks at it like he’s never seen a receipt in his life.
