The Lost Letters Office
The warm metal doorknob turns in your hand, and you step into a room that smells of dust and old paper. Ink bottles clink in a corner. There’s the Alchemist. He’s smiling at you.
The Alchemist has left a note on his desk. The paper is brittle in your hand. It reads: “Lost shoes, lost socks, lost glasses, lost dog. Lost for words. Making up for lost time … Lost and found. Lost love, lost ground. Lost under the bed, up in the attic, left on the train … Lost in the mail.”