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For the Want of a Word

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At last, the post has arrived. A long time ago, when I was young and the world was a better place, the postman would come both in the early morning and at midday. Now, I am lucky to see the postman once a week. In fact, I am lucky if I see him at all, my letters are often tossed on the front path despite the large purpose-built, letter box. And, for all I know, it’s a postwoman and not a postman.

But today I have a bank statement. I quickly tear open the envelope and pull out the enclosed sheet; am I rich or am I........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)

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