The kind of house that makes people imagine holidays before they’ve even moved in.
Every evening, they talked about it.
At dinner. Over the roast chicken or the tacos or the spaghetti I made.
Ezoic
The kids picked out imaginary bedrooms.
“I want the one with the window seat,” Chloe said.
“Quiero el de los naranjos”, dijo Caleb. “Así que puedo atrapar lagartos”.
Renee made spreadsheets. Color-coded. With tabs.
Daniel ran mortgage calculations on his phone. Over and over.
Ezoic
They toured it three separate times.
I didn’t go.
Nobody asked me.
On the third tour, Renee came home with pictures. She showed them at dinner.
The front porch. The swing. The pecan tree.
“Look at this porch,” she said. “Isn’t it beautiful? You could sit out here every morning.”
I looked at the picture.
A wide wooden porch. Painted white. With a ceiling fan. And a swing hanging on chains.
