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The red ink was crisp, but as Arthur pulled the envelope away, he frowned. The date stamped wasn't April 27th. It read: November 12, 1992.

"Why buy a postage meter, Arthur?" his daughter had asked. "You don't even send Christmas cards." "It’s about the mechanics," he’d muttered. "Precision." buy pitney bowes postage meter

"Glitch," he whispered. He reset the internal gears, checking for dust. He tried again. Clack-shhh. October 3, 1985. The red ink was crisp, but as Arthur