I go to every open house in my area. I don the blue booties to protect the pure white carpet from the inadvertent damage I cause from not treading lightly.
I ask the realtor eighteen questions about the house’s livability for us, for our family, the family we’ll never have. They always ask how my hunt is going and I tell them it’s a process.
I interview for ten jobs in your city, none of which I actually want. I call that a hunt too, but employment is not my prey.
Welcome to Microvember, my take on NaBloPoMo. Each day this month I’ll be posting microfiction, short vignettes, or poetry, accompanied by photography. See more Microvember posts here.