[Book.]

In the corner of my eye, I spy something new on the floor. It is an envelope that must have been slipped under my door. I take and open it, reading a notice, that if I have not paid my rent by such and such a date, I will have to vacate the premises. The meaning of it doesn’t hit me for a moment, like I am reading the notes of some musical score, that speaks through the tones something important and mysterious. Then slowly the question creeps up into my foreconscious: what is today’s date? And something like a paranoia strikes my sinus: have I missed noticing this note for any length of days, now? Part of me understands what all this may mean, but more than half is thinking that the world is going to kick me out of it, and that should be an interesting experience. I drop the note. Maybe I’ve even read it before, and forgot?