The baseball glove felt like an extension of Leo’s own hand. It was a worn, chestnut-brown Rawlings, broken in over a thousand games of catch with his dad. Now, the glove sat on the floor of his cramped studio apartment, taunting him. Next to it was a dented can of cheap lager and the source of his shame: a brand-new, rock-hard baseball.
“Leo,” he said, peering at the window. “That’s a double-pane, argon-filled, custom-size unit. Original to the building, 1927.” renters insurance broken window
That night, he called his mom. She listened to the whole sorry tale—the glove, the ex, the window—and then said the words he dreaded: “Didn’t you get the renters insurance I told you about?” The baseball glove felt like an extension of
He filed a claim: “Accidental damage – broken window.” Next to it was a dented can of
“Okay,” Denise said. “Standard policy. Your personal property is covered for things like theft or fire. But the window itself ?”
“Five hundred dollars.”