Predication

At night, I went to the new unfinished house. I wanted him to meet me there, but I didn't call. I guess I wanted him to read my mind too.

Among the bare two-by-fours and naked insulation, the unsanded floors and the roof of sky, I'd never felt so at home. I danced a little in the center room, envisioning marble and tile and white paint and fresh flowers. I thought about his scent wafting down from the bathroom, his voice carrying down the hall. I imagined what it might be like, the two of us...

Maybe this was my dream house more than the ones I'd talked about. Maybe the unfinished product was better than the finished one. Maybe the dream was better than the reality.