The USPS wasn’t rejecting his card because of a typo or a hold or a fraud alert. It was rejecting his card because, in the only way that mattered to machines, Arthur Pendelton did not exist anywhere except a place he no longer had the right to call home.
Arthur slid his Visa into the slot. The machine chewed it, paused, and spat it back out with a sound like a wet raspberry. usps change of address won't accept my card
“No, sir, I see no blocks on your account. Your last transaction was… a coffee shop? Two days ago? That went through fine.” She paused. Typing. “There’s no reason the Postal Service would decline you.” The USPS wasn’t rejecting his card because of
He hung up and stared at the boxes. One was labeled Winter Coats / Dad’s Ashes . He hadn’t been able to bring himself to write just Urn . Another said Kitchen – Broken Things because he hadn’t known how else to categorize the mismatched mugs and the wine glasses that Claire had left behind, the ones with the hairline cracks. The machine chewed it, paused, and spat it
Processing…
At 11:47 PM, Arthur did what any reasonable, exhausted, hollowed-out person would do. He drove to the 24-hour post office on Girard Avenue.