Balance Due Monday

Statement date: today. Previous balance: everything. One. Rent's $1,140 and the first hits a Sunday, so really it's due Friday, don't ask how that math works. Two. Dog eats at seven. Eleven pounds of dachshund staring at the leash like a foreman checking badges. Three. Court date, the 22nd, only mail with my full government name. Almost feels like being wanted. Four .. uh. Five. Refill's ready Thursday, pharmacist knows my birthday better than my friends do. Six. Phone's at 3 and the charger's in her room. Seven. Trash night. Eight. The lease. Nine. The lease again, it counts twice. Ten. Thursday. I said Thursday already. It still counts. This is an attempt to collect a debt. Any breath will be used for that purpose. You have thirty days to dispute. The dispute has been reviewed and denied. Balance due Monday. Due Monday. Due Mon.. day. day. day. One. Rent got paid. Partially. "Partially" is a word landlords hate in a text. Two. Dog learned the sound of my alarm. Now there's two alarms, and one of them has a tail. Three. Continuance. New date. They just move it, they never close it. Four .. Five. Refill's Thursday. Five's always Thursday. This is an attempt to collect a debt. Any breath will be used for that purpose. This communication does not expire. Nonpayment has been noted. Noted. Noted. Balance moved to Wednesday. Moved to Wednesday. Wednes.. whens-day. when. when. That's not mercy. That's interest. Your account has been reviewed. You are eligible for a hardship plan. The hardship plan is: the dog. The Thursday. The room down the hall. Minimum payment is you, present, at seven a.m. Press one to accept. Press one to accept. You already pressed it. You press it every morning. One item today. The dog took the whole verse. Dachshund. Eleven pounds, most of it opinion. She don't know what a lease is. She knows seven o'clock. Knows the leash hook by the door, knows my shoes from my mother's by smell, takes the stairs like a payment plan, one at a time, belly grazing every step. Sat outside the bathroom once for forty minutes, little repo agent who felt bad about the job. I paid her in a walk. We're square till morning. We're never square. That's the arrangement. This is an attempt to collect a debt. Any breath gets used for that purpose. No disputes on file. Account remains open. It stays open. That's the terms. Balance due the Monday after the Monday after that. Carried forward. Carried. Forward. Carried. Carried. Forward, I guess. Four. Four is my mother, asleep in the next room, machine keeping time like a meter running, and I never say four out loud because four's the one that don't take partial payments.