In Which We Do A Thing

The two lovers stood in silence for a moment, then they reshuffled through their options.

“I like this one,” Cree said, pointing to one of the photos, “it has literally everything.”

“Okay, I think this one should be number two,” Crystal said, pointing to another picture.

“I really hate the bathroom in that one, but yeah, it’s otherwise perfect. I think this one should be our number three choice.” Cree placed another photo next to the other two.

“Awesome, let’s take it up with the Lord,” Crystal said, looking to Cree for his response.

They bowed their head, and Cree began praying. First, they said thank you for the opportunities they’d had thus far. Then, they explained that they’d made a decision. Finally, they asked if their decision was best. And after closing in the name of Jesus Christ, they looked at each other sadly, and set their first choice aside. Both of them had received the same clear answer, “no.”

“I really can’t stomach that that master bath has only one sink and a tiny shower tub,” Cree said, pleading with his eyes to skip their number two.

As Crystal moved it to slot number three, Cree looked at the next choice. He couldn’t do it. For absolutely no conceivable reason, he couldn’t even ask if it were the right place; he knew it wasn’t.

Wordlessly, he bowed his head and asked about their original second choice. Without sharing his answer, he invited Crystal to offer her own prayer and let him know what her answer was.

“I’m sorry Babe,” Crystal said as she looked up at him.

“I know, shall we get it started?” Cree asked, grimly picking up the second image.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, try and ask about the other one,” Cree said, wondering if he’d imagined the aversion.

Crystal stared at it for a moment, but she couldn’t bring herself to bow her head. The other option just didn’t feel right. She picked up the other image and handed it to Cree.

They’d found their new home.

About Cree Dalene 15 Articles
I grew up in Colonia Juarez, Chihuahua, México, where people either owned cattle ranches or fruit orchards. Much of my work ethic came from working on Rancho La Mesa (my family's ranch). That ranch also sparked what grew into my wild imagination. I read somewhere that you should write the story you want to read, and that stuck with me. My writing began in sixth grade, around the time I began learning to type.

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