sepia notes

Robert was grand but Michael was grander taking me out for a movie and ice cream that tasted like it was coated in the silver from the screen. After the movie we walked past houses that were immaculate and he pointed out the ones that could possibly make a home for us in a few years.

I kept quiet. I never really did believe Michael, but he was so sure of himself that you couldn’t help but fall a little in love with each word he said so confidently.

“Do you think that one has a fireplace?” He asked while pointing. I felt horrible. I could tell the chimney was all wrong for a fireplace but I didn’t have the heart to tell him.

“Maybe? I don’t know Mike.” I squeezed his scratchy hand.

“I bet it does. I bet it has the best damn fireplace in a 2 mile radius. And that’s the one I’m going to buy for us.” A streetlamp highlighted him.

“Really?” I batted my eyelashes. “That one?”

“That one. It’s perfect.”

“What if they don’t want to sell?”


“What if the people that live there don’t want to leave their perfect home?”

“Damn it, Mildee, we’ll just offer them more money.” He kissed me jubilantly at finding the answer. We walked back to his car and he held my hand, soft, but only twice, on the way. He stopped outside of my house and put the lever in park.

“See you tomorrow?”

“Goodbye, Michael.”