Albeit the address on the envelope is wrong, TROUBLE has found its way to my door at last.
The tariff on the GOOD TIMES delivered to my doorstep it seems, is past due.
Now, I regret the moments I complained about the sameness and boredom of my days.
I'll miss the carefree moments, the joy of peace and contentment, and good health that were mine.
Their price must be paid for with the TOLL-OF-TROUBLE that awaits.
[Dorothy Hazel Tarr]
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