That Tuesday was hot, oppressive, sticky, the kind of day when even the air felt angry. I shuffled around the living room, finally deciding to fold the huge pile of laundry.
The phone rang and I jumped, clothes tumbling from my lap.
Caller ID: Bank.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
“Ariel, this is Brenda…”
I listened as she explained the balance past due and what bank department she was calling from.
“Ariel, this is Brenda…”
“I’m afraid I have some difficult news about your mortgage,” she continued. “Foreclosure proceedings are starting as of today.”
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