How much the sidewalk had changed in just a year. There were new paving slabs on Bleeker Street that spiralled into each other like snail shells. A pothole had been filled in on Lake Drive. Children's chalk drawings tattooed the skin of Foxglove Avenue, stretching across the breadth of the road and down along its spine. Gardner's gaze traced the patterns beneath his sensible shoes, the rosy pinks and cool blues, following the twists and curves until he reached the intersection.

His mailbag swung emptily against his hip. He was thankfully nearly finished for the day, it was almost noon and the sun was beginning to beat down against the pavement and, more importantly, him.

There was once a time, not very long ago, when he wondered if he would ever get the chance to carry this esteemed burden ever again, after he lost his job, after his first romantic tryst, after he finally let go of the past and stepped forward into a new, freer life. But here he was again.

He turned onto Marigold Lane. This was not his usual route but he'd lived in Austin so long, every inch of it was familiar. Bright orange flowers by the roadside waved at him as he passed but he didn't stop to enjoy them. Soon, the street narrowed and he made his way onto the sidewalk, pushing open the gate of the first house with practised finesse.

Gardner didn't see this as a step backwards. He saw it as a favour. He did not have his old job back, although he had a feeling he might be able to figure out a way to wheedle himself back in, given the time. But then, he wasn't sure if he actually wanted to. He shook his head. Just focus on the sidewalk.

Gardner chewed his lip as he crossed the road to the next house on his adopted route. It was mid-July and as usual, he had nowhere to go. So, when he met his old friends at their usual bar and Linda mentioned she was going on her first vacation in ten years, he offered to fill her shoes. It was only temporary, a summer job to earn a bit of extra cash and to help out a friend, but as he turned onto the final house on the lane, Gardner couldn't deny just how much he'd missed this.

"Morning!"

His hand paused on the gate. Its red paint was flaking, the hinge rusted with age. He was so lost in his own thoughts that this was all Gardner could focus on for a few moments before he slowly looked up.

There was a young woman kneeling on the grass, just in front of the gate. She was smiling at him, despite the fact that he definitely would have hit her if she hadn't stopped him opening the gate. Smiling was something he wasn't entirely used to from civilians. Usually, they barely even registered his presence or just gave him a polite nod, so it was a surprise to actually be addressed.

"Good morning," Gardner said stiffly. This was his last delivery of the day and as much as he loved his job, he was eager to get home and eat lunch. That, and he still wasn't completely comfortable talking to civilians. They were, more often than not, more trouble than he could handle.

The woman tilted her head to the side, lifting up her sunglasses to reveal dark, intelligent eyes. "You look different," she said, and her smile stretched into a grin.

Gardner frowned. "We've never met."

The woman laughed. "A lady usually comes by. Nancy, I think."

"Linda." He shuffled uncomfortably. This was the longest conversation he'd had with a member of the public, someone he didn't know, in a long time. "She's on vacation."

"Oh, wow! Nice for some, eh?"

The woman rose to her feet and Gardner resisted the urge to take a step backwards. The dungarees she wore were old and battered and spotted with what he thought might be oil stains. As she came closer, he watched her tuck the screwdriver she'd been holding into the pocket on the front. Underneath her overalls, she wore a faded red t-shirt, the same rusty colour as the gate.

Gardner cleared his throat and dug into his bag, pulling out her small stack of mail in one smooth motion. "Here you go, ma'am."

"Oh, thank you."

Strangely, she was still smiling at him. Her accent was different. English, he thought. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a haphazard bun and now that she was closer, Gardner found that she smelt like the flowers that lined this street.

He gave her a tight smile and began to turn away but to his great surprise, she spoke again.

"I'm Margaux, by the way."

Gardner looked back and found she'd stuck out her hand. This was very irregular. And she was very pretty. Not that it matters, he thought, but she is, she really is.

He took her offered hand, shaking quickly, then pointed to the letter on the very top of the pile he'd given her. "Yeah, I- I know."

Margaux looked to where he'd pointed. There it was in black and white print: Margaux Ersatz, 19 Marigold Lane, Austin TX. She tutted, annoyed with herself. "Oh, of course."

She was still smiling. It was a nice smile. Gardner cleared his throat, glanced down at his feet, then back up at her with another strained smile. "Well, goodbye," he said quickly, then gave her a tiny, stupid, awkward wave.

"Thanks for the..." Margaux trailed off when he turned on his heel and hurried off down the street. "Post." She watched him practically power-walk into the distance until he disappeared around the corner. Margaux chuckled, sinking back down onto her knees in front of the front gate. "Nice to meet you."

She pulled out her screwdriver again, making a final adjustment to the bracket. It had come loose sometime last week and she'd only just got round to fixing it. She tightened the last bolt then sat back to admire her work.

The midday sun was already almost too much to handle, so Margaux didn't stick around any longer than she had to. She went back inside, still chuckling at the startled look on her new postman's face. In fact, she thought about him for most of the day.