The whole account.

All of it, including the thirty-five thousand that was never mine anyway, written off against a man who had been dead for five months.

I read it standing up in my hallway and then I read it again and then I went and sat on the stairs, which by June was more or less an established location.

Four months, from the twenty-first of February to the second of June.

Four dispute letters, sixteen pages of itemization with a ruler, three weeks of chasing a Social Security award letter, and nine dollars and forty cents of certified postage.