A postcard from overseas arrived in the mail this morning. It had the picture of a mountain. The stamp was smudged and torn on the edges. The mountain was just a mountain, no location disclosed. It was addressed to me, but it had no address on it, only the country and the town. I live in a large town, so it was surprising that it actually found its way into my hands. It said “I’m coming home”, no signature. I knew he had written it, my brother. At the back, the date was from six months ago… I miss him.