Fingers crossed

My heart was thumping in my chest.

Yes, we're going to take it, I said. Yes. Yes.

"Hello? Are you still there?" it was our broker.
And suddenly I realised I hadn't been speaking aloud, only in my head.
"Oh sorry, I said yes, we're going to take it."
"Brilliant. I'll draw up the paperwork, and the next step is to get the lawyers involved."

And that was it. That is how quickly we decided, and all of a sudden, we were buying a home.

Of course, a zillion things could happen to stop it from going through in the end. Maybe the co-op board would hate us. Maybe we would see the apartment one last time and realise we had made an egregious error, and backpaddle desperately out of the deal. Maybe we would suddenly re-look at our bank accounts and realise we couldn't afford it after all.

But until any of those fears actually come to fruition, it still stands that Delta and I are buying an apartment. Our first home together, right here in the epicentre of this microcosm of insanity which is this city.

The terms are sparse (but then, "sparse" in the world can still be plentifull in Manhattan), but it's our home all the same: a bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a closet. I mean, who needs more, anyway. I'd even go so far to suggest that anything further would be outright wasteful.

"I wonder how we're going to fit all our clothes," I mused, staring at the floorplan and mentally willing the closet space to double itself.
"I know!" Delta exclaimed. "If you could just get rid of all your clothes, if you don't mind terribly, I think I could manage to fit mine in there."
I scowled and gave him a playful shove, and we grinned at each other in glee.

For in three months, maybe, just maybe, we will be building this home together, closet space and all.