Dr.

The agent smiles at me.

His teeth are glaringly white against his tan skin.

I can't tell if the tan is real or fake.

It looks fake, but he's in real estate, so maybe he spends a lot of time outside or on the golf course.

He's saying something to me, but I'm not listening.

It really doesn't matter what he says.

I love the house, and I'm putting it in the house. It really doesn't matter what he says.

I love the house and I'm putting in an offer one way or the other.

With the neighbors, he says when I finally stop studying the house's interior and look over at him.

I'm sorry? I say.

You'll get along great with the neighbors, he says.

Lovely folks, married couples, all of them.

He swallows and his smile dims. You aren't married. Are you Mr Bracko?

No, I'm not, I reply. I haven't found the right one yet I guess.

That's always the trick, he says and turns his smile back up.

But don't you worry, Mr Bracko?

Singles have moved into this development before and each and every one of them was married

before their first year anniversary.

I laugh.

Oh no, I'm not joking, he continues.

Seriously? I ask everyone that has moved into this development has ended up married?

...