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The End of Paying In The End

The last bill came today. The letter is testy and threatens collections if I don’t hand over the $125. Why argue that I never got a bill? I call the 800 number and a woman who sounds every bit as Midwestern and black as the St. Louis address would suggest takes my credit card number. “All right, thank you and have a good day,” she says at the end, and there is no reason not to.

The end is a second notice never having received the first. I have a message to keep, though not in words.


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