<em><strong>Chelsea Damariz</strong> - following Roger, along with Shayla, to the mailbox room...</em><br/><hr/>After shaking Shayla's hand, Roger took his hand back and then went back to talking with Chelsea. "You know, you should get a pass for entry into the mailbox room," he said, unlocking the bottom half of the dutch door. Behind the door was a short hallway, about three to four meters in length that led to a room that looked like a locker room. Roger let the two girls into the hallway, locking the bottom part of the dutch door, and led them towards the open door of the room. "The Post Office is trying to give passes to whoever has a mailbox in the mailbox room. All you have to do is show the pass to the guard and he'll open that door for you. You can also give the pass to one of your tenants and if they do the same procedure, the guard will let you in. Just make sure you don't give it to someone you don't trust, especially newer tenants, no offense." Roger had to say it, but he quickly apologized to Shayla as they entered the room. Every wall of the room was a built-in mail locker. Some differed in size, from the size of a regular personal mailbox, to a large school locker. "I'll see if the guys can you give a pass before you leave."<br/><br/>Roger exited the room and back into the hallway. Chelsea, pulling out from her pocket a key, attached to it a keychain of a fuzzy bear, went over to a medium-sized mail locker across from the open door. Wording on the locker said 'ShareHouse Mail' and also the address to the ShareHouse. Chelsea inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it, unlocking the mechanism that locked the door. Pulling on the handle attached to the exterior side of the door, would reveal the contents inside. Sixteen cubby-holes, in a four-by-four pattern, held the mail for the tenants of the ShareHouse. About a fourth of the cubbies were empty, showing that those were for future tenants. Chelsea took all pieces of mail out of their cubbyholes, not minding to look at the names on the envelopes. Not having a bag with her meant that she had to hold the excess of twenty of so different types of envelopes in her hands. She had forgotten her bag at home. She muttered softly, "Well, at least it's not Monday." Surely, Monday would be the day when the most junk mail would be found, adding to each tenant's mail. Junk mail did give the ShareHouse extra scratch paper, coasters for drinks, and numerous coupons for deals in the city.