Where The Heart Is : One Shot

I grumbled to myself, casting my eyes skyward. It looked like rain. And I didn't have an umbrella with me. My apartment was only one block back, so I could easily jog home and get one. But I knew if I went home now, I'd end up not going out again and it would be another three damn months before I got around to this chore. Procrastination was not my friend. Procrastination was the reason my apartment looked like shit and I was all but fired from my job currently.

I sighed, looking down at the armload of clothes I was carrying. Procrastination was also why these damn clothes weren't in a garbage bag to make carrying them easier (or to allow me to simply throw them out with the trash). I needed to go shopping—another thing I had been procrastinating, along with cleaning my apartment, taking my recyclable goods to the recycling center, and taking these old clothes to the donation center.

"Damn you, world! You can't rain yet! Can't you just wait, like, fifteen minutes?!" I screamed up at the sky, since I didn't look enough like a lunatic by carrying these crappy clothes around.

"Need a hand?" came an angelic voice just in my ear. I froze mid-step, almost dropping the clothes in my shock. Slowly, very slowly, I turned around. Standing there, almost directly upon me, I found....a raggedy looking guy that really sounded far better than he looked. I let out an undignified shriek, now actually dropping the clothes in my shock. “Ah! I’m sorry, miss! I didn’t mean to frighten you!” he exclaimed, swiftly putting up his hands to show that he meant no harm.

I swiftly shifted from fear to fury. “Who are you calling “miss”?!” I screamed, glaring death at him. He held his hands up only higher, almost looking like a crook surrendering to a cop.

“Oh! So you are a guy! I’m sorry! It’s just your scream is so girly and your hair is so long and—” he started to exclaim, but he cut himself off as I got an insulted look and grabbed my own hair, inspecting it. Damn. I had been procrastinating a haircut, too.

“…Do I scream like a girl? Really?” I asked, looking up at him now with a sort of miffed expression.

He laughed nervously, slowly lowering his hands a little before responding. “Well, um, I don’t really know. I mean, it’s not like I’m an expert on girls’ screams—I don’t go around scaring women just to see how the scream—so….I guess it was just the long hair combined with the slightly high pitch,” he said weakly.

I frowned to myself, looking at my hair again and tugging on it thoughtfully. I needed a haircut. As soon as possible. ….Tomorrow. As soon as possible tomorrow. Yes, I was procrastinating again. I really needed to learn to stop that. Some other time, though. Not right now. Right now I had to get the stupid clothes donated and get my ass home before it began to rain.

I sighed now, bending down and beginning to pick up the clothes I’d dropped, not bothering to dust them off. Almost immediately the man crouched down next to me, also beginning to retrieve the clothes from the ground. Unlike me, though, he actually took the time to clean them off and fold them nicely. I watched him as we worked, frowning softly to myself. Why was he being so helpful? Didn’t he have anything better to do than lend a hand to a random stranger?  It was creepy that he was being so nice.

“You live ‘round here?” he asked, cutting into my thoughts. I shook my head to clear it and focused on what was going on, finding that he’d picked up almost all of the clothes (I’d picked up an entire pair of jeans). And I’d just been sitting there, staring at him like a moron. “Whereabouts do you live?” he asked with a smile, having taken my head shake to mean no.

“Oh, um, it’s actually only a block from here. My street, I mean. The one I live on,” I answered, forcing myself to return the smile. Though, really, it wasn’t that forced. His smile was contagious. And nice. His smile was contagious and nice.

We both straightened up now and just stood there, smiling at each other like complete idiots. After several minutes, he cleared his throat, signaling that he was now going to end the awkward silence with equally awkward words. “Would you like some help taking these…wherever you’re taking them?” he asked, still smiling brightly.

“Oh, sure. I’m taking them to the donation center. For donation. I’m donating them,” I replied, also still smiling brightly. God, I sounded like an idiot. Why did I always find it necessary to add on obvious facts after my statements?

“For the homeless? That’s really thoughtful of you,” he said, now moving past me to lead the way to the donation center.

I moved to follow him, first shrugging and then shaking my head at his words. “Not really. I only do this out of habit. My mother always made me do it when I was little. Old habits die hard, you know? So, really, it’s thoughtful of my mother,” I said. He smiled only that much more, laughing softly.

“Mayhaps. You seem to be going pretty far out of your way, though, for something to claim it is just a habit,” he replied lightly.

“Does it? Well, honestly, simply breathing is me going pretty far out of my way. I’m very bad with putting things off. This is something I’ve been meaning to do for three months now, as a matter of fact,” I said with another shrug.

“Even if you put it off for three years, doing it at all is thoughtful. Of you, not your mother,” he said matter-of-factly, “Unless, of course, by saying this is a habit your mother instilled in you, you actually mean that she called you up and reminded you to do this.” He laughed again at the last part, still smiling like there was no tomorrow. It should be illegal to be so cheery when it was such a dreary day.

My own smile, which had yet to leave my face, faded somewhat now. “Mhm. Well, that’s not likely, unless there’s phones in Heaven,” I said.

He immediately stopped laughing and lost his smile. “Oh. Oh my! I’m so sorry! I had no idea—I didn’t even stop to think—” he rushed and stumbled through his attempt to apologize. Though he was somewhat amusing, seeming to lose his footing literally as well as verbally, I was kind enough to halt him before he actually tripped, though only verbally.

“It’s okay. No worries. She’s been dead awhile now. Over fifteen years, in fact. Sixteen, to be exact. And she lived well. And she died well. So it’s okay,” I said, my smile fading back into existence. He weakly returned the smile, but said nothing else. Which was okay, since we had just arrived at the donation center and needed to direct our attention to the weird-haired woman that was working the clothes counter that day.

By the time we were done with her and stepped outside, the rain was pouring down. I let out a sound that was half groan and half sigh, staring in the direction of my home. Three blocks. Three long blocks. Three long, damn blocks. In the pouring rain. Without an umbrella. I didn’t even own an umbrella. I needed an umbrella. And a car. I needed and umbrella and a car. That was for later, though. Right now, I needed to run home at top speed over a longer distance than I’d ever been forced to run even in evil P.E. at school. And I needed to do so in the freaking rain.

I let out a second groan and a second sigh, this time separately the sounds. All at once, there was an umbrella over my head. I looked over at my companion with surprise. He just smiled. “…Where? From where?” I asked, pointing up at the umbrella as I looked him over.

“There. From there,” he replied, pulling open his ratty trench coat to reveal a large, concealed pocket in the lining.

“Man, you’re slick,” I said, returning my surprised gaze to his face.

“Slick, but not wet,” he replied, his smile turning into a grin.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I looked back in the direction of my home. “You’ll walk me home, then, I presume?” I asked after a pause.

“If I may be privileged enough to do so, yes,” he said. I glanced at him, returning his smile once more, and we started off. Maybe procrastination was my friend. It had led me to him, after all. Yes, this was definitely procrastination’s way of apologizing to me.



“How did you miss them stealing from the store?” he asked.

“I was on my lunch break,” I replied, not bothering to hide a yawn.

“They emptied the entire place! It took over three hours!” he exclaimed.

“….It was a long lunch break,” I said.

“Damnit, Deal, I’m tired of this! I do not care if your father is the head of an entire security training facility! As a matter of fact, it’s the fact that your father is the head of that facility that you got through it so easily and aren’t properly trained! As of this instant, you are out of the job! Fired, you hear me?! And I’m submitting a formal complaint to your father, too!” my now ex-boss screamed in my face.

I now worked to hide a second yawn, disguising it as a cough. “Sir, really, don’t you think you’re over-reacting? Over half the stuff stolen was up for liquidation, anyways,” I said,

“Exactly! We needed those products! We needed those sales! Do you have any idea what my bills are like?! Not just for the store, but for my house! For God’s sake, I might as well stamp “foreclosed” on my forehead right now!” he screamed. He was waving his arms about as he shouted, seeming, at several points, to almost move to strangle me.

“Not everyone is able to live off their relatives, unlike you, Deal,” spat a former co-worker.

“Yeah, whatever. Shove it in your ear,” I grunted, turning to leave now.

“Dealing with the devil would be preferable to dealing with Deal,” grunted another former co-worker to my ex-boss. Everyone immediately started exchanging cruelties about me, not caring that I was within hearing range still. I didn’t catch any of it, though, since I had long since perfected the ability to tune all of the annoying bastards and bitches out.

“…Deal?” came a soft voice. Except that one. That was the one person I couldn’t tune out. He was the one person I couldn't tune out. I turned to face him, frowning softly but saying nothing. “…I know you didn’t return for the rest of your shift yesterday at all. I know because I kept calling you here to talk to you like I always do, and you didn‘t pick up even once in the six hours after your lunch break. Where were you?” he asked softly.

I sighed, looking away now. Should I tell him? He might think badly of me. Then again, this was Zeet we’re talking about. He was the nicest, kindest guy to ever walk the Earth. Hell, he might damn well be a reincarnation of Jesus Christ, he was so big-hearted and open-minded. Besides, I really badly wanted to tell somebody what had happened yesterday, and I didn’t exactly have any friends aside from him.

“I was at home,” I stated flatly. I turned and started walking off, knowing full well that my friend would pursue me and badger me until I told him more.

“Why didn’t you come back? Is it because you don’t have a car, and it started to rain?” he asked following me hot on my heels, “You could have called me for a ride,” he added.

“Nnnnoooo,” I said slowly, not stopping.

“Then why didn’t you come back? Is it because you don’t have an umbrella, and couldn’t borrow one from anyone?” he asked, “You could have called me for a ride,” he added again.

“Nnnnoooo,” I said slowly, leading the way out of the stupid store.

“Well, then why did you come back? Please tell me, Deal! I really want to know what happened!” he exclaimed desperately.

Now I stopped, turning to face him, a dead serious expression on my face as I leaned in closely to whisper lowly to him. “I didn’t come back yesterday and I’m so tired today for the same reason, that reason being that I met a homeless guy, took him home, and decided I’m going to spend the rest of my life with him,” I said.

Now Zeet stopped, just giving me this blank stare. After many long minutes of silence, he swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat and spoke. “…Care…Care to elaborate…?” he asked weakly. I sighed, pulling back and looked away as I ran a thoughtful hand through my hair. Maybe telling him wasn’t such a good idea. It wasn’t too late. I couldn’t still play it off as a joke. “Please tell the truth,” he added, seeming to sense my train of thought.

I turned my eyes back to him, frowning now. “I met a homeless guy. His name is Marker Detrix Hatee. He helped me carry clothes to a donation center, and walked me home under his umbrella when it began to rain. When I discovered he was homeless—which was only once he had walked me to my apartment door—I invited him to stay in with me until the rain stopped. He was really, really, really nice and polite the entire time, even before I invited him in. We got into really deep conversation, which lasted long past when the rain stopped. In the end, he ended up spending the night,” I said.

There was a pause now. “….Okay, now what was that part about spending the rest of your life with him?” Zeet asked, still giving me the blank stare.

“Well, I only have the one bedroom in my apartment, and I accidentally set fire to my couch while cooking dinner for us both—please don’t ask about that. I’m just so talented that I can set fire to things not even in the kitchen when I cook. Anyways, I kind of ended up inviting him into my bed….and then into my pants…” I said, trailing off now as a blush crept onto my face.

There was another pause now. “…So you had sex with a homeless guy. Not so out of the ordinary, in this day and age. Why does that mean you have to spend your life with him? What, did he propose? No, wait—did you propose?” my friend asked. His blank stare was slowly becoming disbelieving now, and even a bit disturbed and disgusted.

“No! I just…I really….he’s… Okay, homelessness aside, he’s a really fantastic guy. He’s intelligent and polite and thoughtful and eloquent and sweet and—” I said, obviously beginning to get somewhat sidetracked.

“Hold a second. How old is this guy, even? And how does he look? I mean, is he some old, haggard Vietnam veteran that society cast aside, or what?” Zeet asked.

“No! He’s just around the same age as I am! And he’s just another victim of this horrible economy! His business went belly up and he was kicked out of his house, just like what’s happening with Harris!” I exclaimed, gesturing to the store to show I was referring to our boss—rather, his boss and my ex-boss.

“Have you seen a driver’s license or something as proof?” my friend asked.

“Of course! I’m not an idiot! I even had my father contact one of his police buddies and check for a criminal record! He’s clean!” I exclaimed indignantly. I really couldn’t believe Zeet was asking me these kinds of question. How big of a moron did he think I was? Just because I sucked at protecting properties I was assigned to as a security guard, that didn’t mean I couldn’t protect myself. I didn’t dive headfirst into things without knowing the risks.

“Okay. Fine. Back to his looks. How does he look? Is he haggard? Even if he isn‘t old, he can still look haggard,” he said.

“What does it matter?! I don’t care if he looks old or if he looks haggard or if he looks like a freaking mutant! He’s got intellect and personality! He doesn’t need to be a looker!” I shouted furiously.

Zeet stared at me for several beats before responding. “Okay. So he looks ugly. You could have just said so. No need to shout,” he said.

“What is with you?! Why are you acting like this?! You’re not being yourself!” I shouted.

“What do you mean?” he asked, utterly oblivious. I went to scream at him again, but stopped myself. Pausing to take several deep breaths to calm myself, I slowly collected my thoughts as I watched my friend. Finally, I spoke.

“…Normally, when I tell you good news—no matter what form of good news it is—you’re really good about it. You just ask the details, and then tell me it’s great that so-and-so happened or is going to happen. You do that only with truly good news. Like, you can tell when I’m faking that I think news is good, and when you see that I’m not really happy about it, you’re not happy about it either,” I said, speaking softly.

“…I’m sorry, Deal. I just simply cannot view this as good news. Actually, it kind of makes me worry about you. I mean, going around randomly picking up homeless guys, sleeping with them and then deciding the very next day after meeting them that you want to live with them forever and ever…” he said, shaking his head softly at me.

And there went all of my serenity. “Don’t say it like that! It’s not like this is a habit of mine or anything! And I didn’t pick him up, he picked me up!” I shouted.

“Even if it’s not a habit, doing it at all is insane! You don’t grab random people off the street and decide to marry them the very next day! And he’s homeless, for God’s sake! He’s already wasted his life and used up everything good there is in it! Taking him into your home at all—God forbid actually marrying him—would only be you wasting your life and using up what little good there is in it!” Zeet shouted right back at me.

I didn’t respond immediately, mostly because I was shocked that he had shouted. Zeet never shouted. Zeet never even raised his voice. My fury swiftly overtook my shock again, though, and I was right back to shouting in his face. “What if I said he was some war veteran like you thought he was at first?! Would his life still have been wasted then?! Would taking him in then still be me wasting my life?!” I screamed.

“Yes! Yes, it would be! If he’s on the streets and as young as you, there’s obviously a good reason for it! Think about it! Where’s his friends?! Where’s his family?! Why is nobody else supporting him, like you so suddenly want to do?!” Zeet screamed in return.

“Damnit, you’re not listening to me! I told you how thoughtful and kind he is! The reason he’s not living off anyone else right now is because of that! He doesn’t want to burden anyone else! That’s why I want to help him!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, attempting to get my point across via volume.

“How can somebody who is a burden unto others support somebody who doesn’t want to become a burden unto others?! You’ve got no job! You’ve no friends! You’ve got no car, no umbrella, no nothing! You can’t even support yourself, so it’s fucking insane and idiotic to even consider trying to support someone else!” he screamed, managing to be louder than me.

I didn’t reply, shock again overcoming me. This time, though, I knew my fury wouldn’t be taking back over. I stared at my friend in complete shock. No, wait, it was incorrect to call him my friend. Especially since he’d just told me I have no friends. Slowly shock came onto his face as he realized what he’d just said to me.

“…I can too support him. I have an apartment—rented from my aunt at the price of being a handyman whenever she needs it—and a steady income of food—payment for being a handyman for anyone else in the apartment complex when they need it. I may not have a fancy life. I may not have a luxurious life. But I have a life, and I have a home, and I want to share them both with Marker,” I stated. With those words I spun on my heel, heading home. And it began to rain.



I flung open the front door, trying to work off my fury at my now ex-friend. I then turned to the door and patted it, apologizing for treating it roughly. And then I slammed the door, still trying to work off my fury. It was really hard to work off fury when you didn’t even have any work you could do. If only something around the apartment complex would be so kind as to break…

“Are you alright, Deal?” came an angelic voice just in my ear.

“I’m fine. I’ve just decided to hate the world henceforth,” I said, fidgeting with the doorknob, not wanting to turn around and face Marker.

“What? Why?” he asked, worry already evident in his tone.

“No reason. Just seems like a good idea,” I said, now fidgeting with the door itself, still not turning to look at him.

“….Well, if there’s no good reason or even no reason at all, what makes you say it’s a good idea?” he asked. He wrapped his arms around me now, and I instantly melted back into him. I finally halted my fidgeting, turning in his arms and now picking at his shirt. Or, well, my shirt, since I owned it, though he wore it. He had to wear my clothes, since his other ones were all ratty and he’d helped me donate my spare clothes just the other day.

“Because if I hate the world, then I don’t have to worry about what it thinks,” I said.

“….What happened?” he asked.

“…I kind of…told my friend at work about you…and, well, to put it simply, he’s not my friend anymore. Also, I don’t work there anymore,” I mumbled.

He didn’t respond right away, obviously needing a moment to digest that information. I could tell he’d digested it when his grip tightened just slightly and he began rubbing the small of my back. “So…you quit your job and your friendship over me, or you got fired from your job and lost your friendship because of me…?” he asked very softly, guilt already paining him and painting his voice.

“Neither. I quit my friendship because the person I thought was my friend really wasn’t,” I said flatly.

“And your job?” he asked.

“….Well, that wasn’t because of you, per se…” I said slowly.

“So it was partially my fault,” he said.

“No! I—” I started to speak, but I stopped immediately when I looked up at him. There was a long, awkward silence where I just gapped at him. I then made the moment even more awkward as I slowly reached up, first poking and then rubbing his cheeks. And, yes, I did that to both of his cheeks, one at a time. “…You shaved…” I said,  now rubbing both cheeks, “….And cut your hair…” I added, running my hands up into and through his hair.

“Yeah. I cleaned up after myself, though, so you don’t have to worry about a mess. Sorry to startle you,” he said, offering up a quick smile, “But about your job—”

“Man, screw my job. I’ve gone and lost it already anyways, so it doesn’t matter anymore. I haven’t lost you yet, though, so you do matter,” I said, now wildly running my hands through his hair and along his cheeks.

He just stood there for a moment, allowing me to get the touching out of my system. When, after several minutes, I didn’t seem to be losing my enthusiasm or entertainment from touching his face and hair, he only then reached up and grabbed my hands. Pulling my hands down to my sides, he kept hold of them, entwining his fingers in mine. “Please, allow me to be selfish for a moment and ask about how you lost your job,” he said.

I couldn’t refuse him when he asked like that. “…It’s not really because of you. I just sucked at my job. I got fired because I’m been selfish for far longer than just a moment, and without even asking,” I stated softly.

“What do you mean? Please, Deal, stop being so vague. I really want to understand what you’re saying,” he said. Oh, it just killed me to see him look so upset. I liked him being happy in nearly illegal amounts much better. His scruffy, bearded, smiling face looked much better than his smooth, shaven, pained face.

“I got fired because I didn’t go back to work yesterday after my lunch break. The store I’m supposed to be security at—rather, that I was previously security at—got completely robbed. So I was fired. Which I saw happening eventually, since I’ve never taken my job as a security guard very seriously. That’s it. There is nothing more to it,” I said.

“…You didn’t go back because you were with me,” he stated more than asked.

“…Yes. But I didn’t have to be. I simply chose to be. I chose you over my job. So it’s not really your fault, it’s mine,” I said.

“You….you chose me…over your income, over your way of life?” he asked, looking quite shocked to hear it put that way.

I smiled softly, raising my hands up and wrapping my arms around his neck without allowing him to untwine his fingers from mine. “That’s not my income. I mean, I’ll admit that’s how I get my money. I don’t really need it, though. I earn this apartment and the majority of my food through labor around this complex. Besides, jobs come and go so easily, but it’s a once in a lifetime chance to meet somebody like you,” I said, leaning up and nuzzling his cheek, letting out a pleased hum at the lack of coarse hair to ruin the nuzzling.

Very slowly now he pulled his fingers and hands free of mine, sliding his arms from around his neck and to around my waist. “….I have something to tell you, Deal,” he said softly.

….No. He hadn’t just said that in the “I’m sorry to have lied to you” tone. He didn’t just say that in the “I feel bad for having cheated you” voice. There was no way. I had already decided Marker was the perfect guy. I would have to kill myself if that fantasy was taken away from me now. Even if he was the one that revealed the truth to me, to help take some of the sting away, I wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“….It’s okay to lie to me. I don’t mind,” I said softly, now moving my nuzzling to his neck, unable to look him in the eye and say that.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to allow me to hide my face. His hands moved up from my waist swiftly, gently cupping my face, making me pull back and lift my head to look at him. “….Even if you don’t mind, I do,” he said, staring straight and deeply into my eyes.

I swallowed hard, having trouble keeping my eyes on his. For his sake more than my own, though, I kept my gaze locked with his, though mine was so much more unsteady. “….Get it over with. Just tell me everything at once. Don’t drag it out. Just get it out. Don’t hesitate. Whatever it is, say it already and say it quickly,” I said.

“….I’m not homeless. Not really. My parents kicked me out of my own house and cut me off from basically everyone I know to force me to find a spouse,” he said.

“….Wait. Forget quickly. You can’t rush that kind of explanation. What is going on here, exactly?” I said, looking at him with bewilderment.

He took a deep breath now, obviously preparing for a long explanation. “I just want you to know that I didn’t lie. I just didn’t explain everything thoroughly. My company did go belly up, and I did get kicked out of my house. Though my company failed, I still have quite a large amount of savings and good investments to live off of, at least until I decide what to do next for my career. I was kicked out of my house, but it was by my parents, not by some bank looking for money I didn’t have. While I am avoiding telling my other relatives and friends about my situation so as not to burden them, I couldn’t go to them even if I wanted to, since my parents are rather…persuasive,” he said.

“Obviously,” I said.

“….Yes, well, at any rate, my parents decided that I’m already too old to still be a bachelor. So, they’ve decided to help me with that problem in the traditional family way,” he said.

“It’s tradition in your family for the parents to cut their kids off entirely to force them to wed?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. Short, simple, and sweet. Both his answer and the method.

“….May I inquire as to why this is tradition?” I asked after a pause.

“Yes, of course you may. The….The reason for that…is the same reason I had no choice but to leave information gaps…until now…” he said slowly.

“Please, Marker, I know I asked you not to rush now, but I can’t stand you hesitating like that, either,” I said weakly.

“I apologize. I’ll speak swiftly. The reason is the amount of money my family has amassed. I mentioned I have more than enough money to live until I make another move with my career. In actuality, though, I actually have enough money to retire right this instant and live a life ten times as luxurious as this. Obviously, being so wealthy means that one must be suspicious of anyone who comes knocking on our door, especially when it comes to affairs of the heart,” he said.

I stared at him now. Just stared. And thought. I stared and thought. “…You…pretended to be homeless—rather, pretended to be poor, in order to….find a spouse…because it’s family tradition to do so….so that you can be sure the person you select doesn’t love you for your money….” I said very slowly after the longest pause.

He nodded his head now, his hands now slowly sliding down my body to rest again at my waist. “That is correct. And the reason I am telling you all of this, as you can very well guess, is because I believe you are and hope you are the person I should most definitely select,” he said.

I stared at him again. Just stared. And then I kissed him. I kissed him good and hard, pushing him across the room and onto the charred remains of the couch—rather, over the back of the charred remains of the couch. By the time we toppled onto the actual couch, the kiss had swiftly gone from good and hard to great and heavy. I was groaning through the kiss and grinding through our clothes when we both finally ran out of air, having to end the kiss.

“Are you kissing me because of the money?” he asked, panting softly. I promptly hit him upside the head, and then dropped a kiss where I had hit. “S-Sorry. It’s kind of instinctive. Having doubts and suspicions, I mean,” he said weakly.

“It’s okay. I forgive you. Might I ask a question of my own?” I asked.

“Please do. Feel free to,” he said.

“Does this mean I’m going to come live with you, instead of the other way around?” I asked.

He paused, staring at me for a beat, and then smiled as brightly as he always did. “That was my parents’ plan. I’ll live wherever you want to, though, whether it be at my house, in your apartment, or on the streets. Anywhere is fine by me, as long as you’re there with me. After all, home is where the heart is, and my heart is with you,” he said, “I love you.”

“….I love you, too,” I whispered. I swiftly kissed him again, not allowing anything more to be said. We needed to decide where we were going to live. Some other time, though. Not right now. Right now we had to express our love for each other. No, I wasn’t procrastinating. Because, you see, I had already gotten over the big hurdle. I had already made the biggest decision of my life. I had decided who I was going to love. Something as little as picking where to make our home could easily wait until later. I had much more important things to do right then and there with Marker.