Dear Tony Sanchez

“Dear Tony Sanchez,

I was brought up never to wish harm or evil on anyone Mr. Sanchez. But you sir, are the devil. We have never been late on a single bill post-pandemic. Yet every day except Sundays, your bill collectors pack our mailboxes to the brim, and every fortnight you come by demanding the money we simply do not have. Even coming by my husband’s second job insisting to be paid. That is where the line has been drawn.Mr. Sanchez, we are not hiding anything from you. With the pandemic, we have been forced to quarantine which means we can no longer sell our dairy products at the farmer’s markets and small mom and pop shops. That was our main source of income. We can sell a few items to nearby homes but that is barely enough to keep food on the table let alone pay our rent towards you. With shops closed we have no way of purchasing our containers for the milk, we are solely relying on the profits made from selling cheese. Though we promise the moment things pick back up again we will give you your money. But for now, the harassment has to come to an end. If we were in any other predicament in our control, I would understand your determination on getting payment. You are trying to make a living just as we are. But you have several sorces of income under your belt and we only have the one which is already on it’s last leg. As we, like the rest of the country, are in financial hardships we just cannot control. Find it in your heart for some empathy and respect ~Myla Johnson “

The woman ripped the page out from her little black book and folded it into thirds. Her eyes seemed tired and hopeless, tucking the letter into an envelope as she gazed over the table littered with overdue bills and receipts. She went to the sink to wet her fingers to seal the envelope, peering out the window. Watching the pasture’s grass sway in the breeze beyond the wooden fence. Cows grazed without a care and even yards away she could hear their bells. The hills in the distance covered in lush blossoming trees.Her husbands’ white truck, splattered with mud sped up the dirt road, screeching to a halt outside. Myla wiped her wet fingers off on her red and black flannel as she rushed to the door. As she opened it, she questioned “What are you doing home so early Nelson? I thought the warehouse didn’t close till five?”

Her husband sprang from the truck, leaped across the trail, and hopped over the two steps onto the creaking porch.” I GOT SOME GREAT NEWS!” He burst while he picked her up in his strong arms. In an amused chuckle, she joked “Great enough you couldn’t take off your name badge?”

“Honey, I just won twenty thousand dollars” He smiled holding her shoulders once he sat her down.

She looked at him confused,” Won? What did you win?”

“ Well uh some contest at work, uhh yea that game where you uh guess the amount of rice in the jar. Win a cash prize” He chuckled, avoiding her gaze.

Her eyes got big and she smiled brightly throwing herself at him, Nelson spinning her around as they celebrated with glee. Her curly hair bouncing and her laughter rang out with joy. In her excitement, she will never notice the little speckles of blood on his metal-tipped boots. Or the lumpy tarp in the back of his truck.