The man hitched up the dog's harness and wrapped the boy's fingers around the handle.

"I'm going to watch you from the porch," he said.  "Be sure to listen for cars."

The boy started out the driveway.  Gravel crunched under his feet.  He listened to Toby's breathing; the sound of a passing truck went from low to loud to quiet again.  The hard crunching gave way to the softness of dirt under his shoes.  Dust sifted in on his toes through the canvas.

When Toby stopped, the boy reached out for the mailbox.  He opened the hot metal door and carefully reached inside.  There was no package, only letters lying against the wavy surface.  He gathered them into the sack that hung around his neck.

He followed the dog's footsteps, but in his mind he reached back into the mailbox again, feeling for the dry warmth of a paper box.