WOLVERINE replies.

You wrote three paragraphs and the only word that matters is "shook." You shook on it. Over a phone, sure — but you both knew what that meant. Then he took the time he was supposed to be payin' you back and bought a jet ski with it. That ain't a money problem, bub. That's a man showin' you exactly what his word's worth.

I don't care about the four grand. I've watched fortunes turn to dust and friends turn to dirt — money's the cheapest thing you'll lose in a long life. But a handshake I take serious, 'cause it's one of the few honest things left.

So send the letter. Plain. No venom, no spreadsheet stapled to it, no speech. "Here's what we agreed. When can I expect it." Once. Then let it sit.

Here's what your mother-in-law won't tell you: askin' for what you're owed don't make you the villain. Him grinnin' over the turkey in those shoes does. They wanna call that keepin' score, let 'em.

But don't let it rot in you. The askin's clean. The stewin' on it for the next ten Thanksgivings — that's the part that'll make you somebody you don't wanna be.