For some things we still use paper, folded up in an envelope.

I signed that contract, folded it up in the envelope, and slipped it into the mail slot. There was no crack of thunder.

I’m nervous, because The Future looms out there all mysterious, and the contract had words in it that sounded like forever. Or 21 years, at least. Me and Publisher, Publisher and Me, BFF’s 4ever. But people I trust said sign. Be happy about your little book. Sign it, send it. So I did.