Who needs a hammer when a fist can cause such racket? The pounding pauses. Beyond the door: “Sir, we have a court order.” Yet I refuse to open. Legal notices litter the floor beneath the mail slot, untouched. “A locksmith is coming.”
I have two choices. Neither involve my dignity.
Frank Ladd is a creative director in Boston. He is working on his first novel while his clients aren’t looking.
I don’t get it