"Mr. Wilcox, this is Mary from the Post Office. We have a problem."
"Problem?"
"You opened a PO box two months ago and haven't been in to collect your mail."
"I'm sorry. I've been preoccupied."
"There's more. All of the letters have your own return address. Have you been mailing leters to yourself? Is there someone else living there?"
"No. I live alone since my dear grandmother passed away."
"The thing is, the letters smell bad, like something is rotting inside the envelope. Please come in soon and empty your box."
"I will do just that. Sorry for the inconvenience."
He hung up and glared at the wall where he had entombed cranky, critical grandma exactly two months ago.
"You just had to have the last word, didn't you"?
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