Week three, his girlfriend, Lotte, found him in the armchair. "Are you… seventy years old?" she asked, laughing.
Jasper de Wit stared at the envelope on his doormat. It wasn’t a bill. It wasn’t a flyer for cheap pizza. It was thick, cream-colored, and bore the embossed logo of PZC —the Provinciale Zeeuwse Courant .
He hadn't read that one yet. But he had time. It was only Monday.
The envelope arrived, but this one was different. It was red. Your trial subscription ends. Inside was a bill: €29,95 per month. A choice. Pay, or stop.
He hadn’t ordered it. But there it was:
Then he took out his bank card.
Lotte smiled. "You paid for it, didn’t you?"
