Welcome to Cougarville

We’re not old, but we’re not mellow either

Photo by Leah Huyghe on Unsplash

“Which one of you is buying the home?” The sales agent greeted us and stuck out her hand. Her fingernails were painted white. Solid white, like she’d dipped them in latex.

“That would be both of us,” I answered. “Me and my husband. This man, the one I married.” I clutched Andrew’s arm and pulled him close. He chuckled nervously.