Thirty-Six Pages of Bank Receipts and the Chicago Mortgage Transfer I Finally Canceled
When I came through the front entryway, the house was silent apart from the clicking of a video game controller from the back bedroom.
On the hardwood floor of the main hallway, right next to the brass umbrella stand, lay a bright pink slip of paper.
I bent down and picked it up.
It was a final disconnect notice from the village water department, addressed to my mother.
The balance due was six hundred forty-two dollars, printed in bold red ink along the top margin.
The shutoff date was set for the end of this week.
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