It's my birthday today and since my son is visiting his old man (i.e. my ex) my mom decided to have my birthday party on Friday, so I didn't get to write.
As for this week's prompt, I was really not inspired as I know nothing about it: "Real Estate".
I slapped something together anyways and I hope you'll enjoy the read .... there's even a bit of a twist to it.
Have fun!!
Reality of
real estate.
“Honey, I’m
home!” she called from the door.
I looked up
from my crossword puzzle and smiled a gentle smile at her boisterous
appearance.
She was all
energy, all joy and all mine.
“Hey,
sweetheart.” I called back, waiting for her to join me at the table.
She did,
leaning down to give me a kiss on the forehead as she always did.
“I have
really good news.” she said, taking her seat and taking my hand.
“Oh?”
“I found
the perfect job for you.”
“Really?” I
asked, a little baffled, “I wasn’t even aware I was looking for one.”
I hadn’t
been.
Not since
the accident.
“Well,
maybe you weren’t looking for one,
but I found one anyways.”
“Do I need one?” I asked, suddenly worried we
might not be coping as well as I figured we were.
“Not
really, but wouldn’t you rather be doing something instead of sitting around
the house all day, doing these puzzles?”
“Not
really.” I replied, mimicking her.
“Last time I
checked, you weren’t a lazy butt.” she said, a little accusingly.
“I’m not a
lazy butt, I keep myself occupied in an intellectual way.”
“Yeah,
right.” she chuckled, “And how long are you going to last, occupying yourself
in an intellectual way?”
“As long as
I’m stuck in this wheelchair.” I replied, feeling that instant gnawing inside
as I thought back to what put me in
it.
“That might
be an awful long time, honey.” she replied, understanding my mood as quickly as
it appeared.
She knew me
all too well.
“I think
you should keep busy in other ways. And you should definitely get out again.”
“I am
getting out. I walk the dog twice every day.”
“That’s not
what I meant.”
“I know it
wasn’t, but I see people when I go out, I’m not completely cut off. And I have you, my own private little sunshine.”
“Aren’t you
curious?” she asked, steering away from where compliments the likes of those
usually took us.
“No,” I sighed,
“but tell me anyway.”
“Real
estate.”
“What?”
“Real
estate.” she repeated.
“Sweetheart,
I know nothing about real estate.”
“Maybe not,
but you could still call yourself an agent.” she replied, teasing.
“I prefer
the sound of it when it’s preceded by the word ‘Federal’, not ‘Real Estate’.”
“You’re a
pain in the ass.”
“I used to
be much worse than that.”
“Well, look
at it this way. All that experience should give you a clear advantage when
trying to convince a buyer.”
I chuckled
at her simplistic explanation and she leaned close for another kiss, a proper
one this time.
Long and
lingering, it threw my head in a spin and I felt my skin tingle in
anticipation.
Wheelchair or
not, I could still make my girl happy.
“I like the
sound of it,” she whispered, “Jack Bauer, Real Estate Agent.”
I smiled
against her lips, forgetting the horrible crash that had caused me to lose the
use of my legs.
No more
guns and terrorists for me, clipboards and notaries would do.
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