I decided, in the end, that the more I worried about it, the less I would get done. I knew the exact address of the PO box and I would simply have to start there. After a day of rest, seeing as the whole day of travel had exhausted me. Perhaps to the point of hallucinations, considering how often I was seeing this strange girl.

After crashing for a full 21 hours, I made my way to the PO box address. There it was… with a lock that I had no key for. Luckily the box’s were attached to a mailing building. I approached the front desk, “Hello.” The girl there didn’t respond, seemingly… frozen. I sighed, that was not a good sign. 

When I turned around, there sat the stranger. Leaning against the frame of the building's open glass door. Yet, for some reason, behind her wasn’t the metal framed windows with advertisements in them but cracked stone walls. The stones shifted in place, making an awful gravelly noise that I did not like in the slightest. The stranger wore a smug smile, her arms crossed. She looked more lively this time as well, like the first time I saw her; a stark difference to the her from the hotel room, the one with burns on her arms and defeated eyes. Her mouth moved to say something, but this time mine didn’t follow and no words came out. Like she was messing with me. 

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm but a clear shake forced its way through. She pushed off the door frame which at that point was wooden. It seemed as though she was standing in a medieval castle yet before the wood panel floor could reach my feet, the white granite floor of the mail room started. She took a few steps towards me, hovering right at the cusp of the cross between her floor and mine. 

She spoke once more, her voice still not making its way to my ears. I thought for a moment that it might’ve been because of the difference in our environments. I was still in the mail room and she was still in the medieval castle so I threw caution to the wind. I ignored the fact that I was most likely standing frozen in reality, ignored the fact that I had no idea who this was, even ignored the fact that it could be dangerous. I simply forced myself forward, yet just before my foot could touch the wood, the mail room came back. 

My chest was heaving as I stared at the once more metal framed windows. What just happened? This… hallucination, because that’s what they have been, was more immersive than the rest. Maybe it was because I felt like I could feel the cold coming off the stones. Maybe it was because I could hear the creak of the wood as she walked over it. Whatever it was, it felt like a loss… the fact that I wasn’t able to fully be there. 

“Excuse me?” I jolted at the sudden voice as I swirled around on my heel, “Are you okay?” 

“Yes!” I yelled, not totally sure how to approach this, considering I had no idea how long I was standing there. “Um… a-anyway, I’m looking for the owners of a PO box.” 

“Oh,” the girl says with a slight smile, “yeah, I guess I can help you. Which one?” 

She typed away at the computer as I spoke, “31, I’m pretty sure. Look, the name is really important. But I guess a key would also work if you have that?” 

“Yeah, it’s actually under the name Jane Smith which is clearly a fake name. Might as well say John Doe, right?” she joked but I didn’t respond. How could I when I’d essentially taken a step back. All I had was a postcard and a most likely fake name. And if they weren’t then I just had the most boring parents in existence. Her laugh trailed off into an awkward cough as she continued typing, “Listen… I’m not supposed to do this but I can give you the key. No one’s accessed the box in nearly 18 years so they’re either dead or they forgot to close their account. Either way, I don’t really care.” 

“Yes… that’d be great, thank you.” She grinned in an almost triumphant way before disappearing to the back of the shop. I sighed, leaning against the front counter, my head in my hands. Even after my 21 hour day of rest, I still felt like something was wrong. 

Disregarding the hallucinations, something else felt wrong. A tingling in the back of my neck, a shiver up my spine, goosebumps on my arms. A cliche, really. Whatever it was, it felt like it was getting closer. I had hoped it was just anticipation, to maybe finally finding my biological parents. 

The girl walked back, tossing down a key in front of me. “There you go, on the house. Now please leave, strange person that stood in the waiting area for 15 minutes.” 

I shied away, my face flushing from embarrassment before I gave her a quick thanks and ran off. I stood in front of the PO box, waiting for my hand to move. For the key to turn and open the small door but it wouldn’t. If this was the name, or address, or phone number of my parents then… What would that change? What would change by getting them to tell me why they left? Nothing. They still left. 

Despite the thought that forced its way into my mind, I still brought my hand to the lock. When I opened the door, all that sat inside was a key. I sighed, “Great, all that build up for a key.” I studied it for a moment but apart from a number ingrained on it—not too dissimilar to the key for the PO box—there was no other information. 

Once again, left at a dead end. With nothing to do from there, I simply went back to my hotel. Despite thinking of asking the woman in the mail room, the residual embarrassment from my… hallucination hadn’t yet worn off. 

That evening, I leaned against the hotel bar, flipping the key over and over in my fingers. I stared at it, waiting for it to tell me something. Anything. Anything that would give me more clues as to where I was from. As I stared off into space, a finger tapped on the wooden bar in front of me. I slowly lowered my hand, “If you’re gonna hang around here, a drink?” the bartender offered. 

“Sure,” I smiled, “beer. On tap if you have.” 

Her eyebrow rose, “You barely look old enough to drive a car, license?” I rolled my eyes, Americans… so serious about the drinking. “That’s what I thought, I can get you a lemonade.” I shrugged with a slight nod, what else am I gonna do? I thought. She placed it down in front of me, “So, what’s with the face.” 

I shrugged, not interested in airing my business to this stranger. Everybody that I’d met so far had been helpful but too inquisitive. Too invested in helping me, it was weird. All of them strangers and all forcing their help on me. 

“No need to be so defensive,” she laughed, placing a small bowl of pretzels down in front of me. “You just seem a little young to be making that kinda face.” 

“I’m not.” I said simply. I figured if I was curt, she’d back off. 

She sighed in response, seemingly about to walk off when the key caught her eye. “Wow, you got one of those old school keys.” My eyebrows creased in confusion, my head angling only slightly. “Well you know, one of the old train keys.” I leaned forward, “Now you’re interested,” she grinned. “They took those locks out years ago, now it’s scanners.” 

“Where? Who?”

“Ya know, the train station. Well, the one that goes into the countryside, at least. It’s got lockers for people to stash stuff?” she said in that questioning tone, like she’d expected me to know what that was. I shook my head, “You’re from outta town aren’t you?” 

I raised one eyebrow, “What? The accent gave it away?” 

She huffed a laugh, “Anyway, they… the lockers, used to have locks with those keys. But now you rent a card and open it with that.” 

“Really? So if I brought this, could I open the locker?” I said excitedly, hoping this step forward wouldn’t take me two steps back again. 

“Maybe, I don’t know the rules.” she shrugged, leaning against the back of the bar. 

I pulled the letter out of my back pocket, clearly my birth mother had been leading me towards something. Whatever it was, she wanted me to find it. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have sent me on this wild goose chase. I was sure that once I found whatever she was pointing me towards, I would find her. 

I didn’t realize how unrealistic that was, after all if someone wants to be found, they’ll make themselves known. And they certainly don’t set up something like this. But I hoped—despite my distrusting nature, despite evidence pointing to there being nothing, despite it all—that I’d find something. Something that, at the very least, would tell me where I came from. What that meant for me. For who I was.  

So, the next morning, I stood in front of the surprisingly dilapidated train station. I held the key in a tight grip in my hand, taking one step forward. Naturally, as soon as I did, a new hallucination came on. This one once more surprisingly realistic. The girl, this time, stood much too close, right in front of my face. Yet, when I tried to really study her, it was like it was blurred. When I looked in one spot for too long, it turned into a vague blob that made my head hurt. Like I wasn’t allowed to really look at her. She stared down at me, despite only the vague… idea of her face, I could tell she seemed disappointed. She shifted, turning to show me her back and I studied that. Now I could really look, and she didn’t have burn marks peaking out from under the cuff of her sleeve. In nothing but a tank top, her skin was clear and looked to be full of life. Then why did she have those scars before? I thought, taking a small step forward for more information. She suddenly swirled on her heel, leaning down to my level. A headache burst through my head, stopping me from looking too closely. Her voice layered over mine once more, “I don’t care who you —” her speaking cut off momentarily, like I wasn’t allowed to hear that part of the story, “—it’s what—to be.” She poked a finger hard into my chest, sending me stumbling back and shocking me from the hallucination. 

The headache dissipated as quick as it came, “Helpful,” I whispered, getting progressively more irritated by these hallucinations. They were starting to get more confusing, pieces of something being forced upon me. With nothing to really stop them, I decided to focus on the situation with my birth mother. Even though it felt like the closer I got to her, the more intense the hallucinations got. They’d started out as dreams, quick, unobtrusive. At that point, though, they were affecting my body real time. 

I stood at yet another front desk, at that point exhausted from dealing with yet another desk clerk. If I don’t find answers soon, I’m going home. I thought as I neared the desk. “I have a key to a locker.” 

I slammed it down on the counter, clearly shocking the man behind it. “And good morning to you too, stranger.” he grinned, leaning against it. I sighed, both my eyebrows raising in irritation as I signaled down at the key. “Right, well, we don’t use those here anymore, nowhere actually.” 

I took a deep breath, getting more agitated by the second, “Yeah, well, I have it, can I just have the card to open the locker?” 

“Unfortunately, no. Someone else is renting that locker which is… 32?” I nodded as he eyed the key. He typed away at his computer, “A one, Ja…ne Smith,” he said hesitantly. I mouthed the name as he said it, it made since, after all she’d done it once before. “How original.” he mumbled. 

“Well, what if I said I’m Jane Smith.” I offered, pushing the key towards him. “I have the key, that’s gotta mean something?” 

“Listen, kid, I’d love to help you but this locker’s had a steady rotation of payments for 18 years. You look to be about as old as a middle schooler so I’m gonna say you are not Jane Smith.” he said, giving me a pitying look. 

Pity was not what I needed. “C’mon, help me out. I’ve got the key.” I forced away my annoyance with the whole process, “Listen… just do me this favor?” I mumbled, decidedly uncomfortable asking for help from a stranger. 

He peeked behind his shoulder slightly… his face shifting through different emotions before settling into calm. “Fine, I’ll help you out. But if you’re some undercover agent reporting to my boss, I’ll find you.” I forced out a polite laugh, fully unsure if he was being serious or not. “The key?” I handed it over and he knelt down behind the desk, disappearing for a few seconds before popping back up. “Okay, here you go, Jane Smith.” 

I snatched the card from his hand before he could take it back, I would get the information I needed in the end. I quickly ran off to the locker, “Be back within 30 minutes, please!” he yelled at my back. 

I stared at the locker, around the same size as the PO box. Dissimilarly from the PO box, though, I didn’t wait. I wanted to know what was inside and this time it wouldn’t be a new and scary experience. 

I opened the locker to find another letter. This one slightly… different from mind. To start, a wax emblem held it close. Four diamonds slid together to form an angular square. And in each one sat a symbole. Dulled down, smooshed really, to the point that I couldn't see the images. I’d assumed from years of mistreatment. Yet there it was. In my hand, another letter.