An Appetite For Destruction

Skylar and Paige had the paperwork ready before they even found the house. Married, solid jobs, credit scores that didn't lie. They stood in the driveway looking at clean windows and an empty porch and Paige squeezed Skylar's hand like they already owned it. Then the realtor showed up. "We'd like to put in an offer," Paige said. The woman glanced at their joined hands and her mouth twitched. "I'm sorry, but this neighborhood has standards." She spoke like she was doing them a favor. "You understand. Two women playing house? The neighbors won't accept it." Paige's face went hot. Skylar stayed calm. "We're not asking anyone to wave a flag," she said. "We pay on time. We keep the lawn cut. That's all." The realtor gave them the form anyway. They signed it in the car, Paige's pen digging into the paper. Days later the call came. Another couple, better fit, higher bid. Bullshit, all of it. Paige didn't scream. She opened her laptop and pulled up the listing photos again. Measured the driveway. Counted the blinds on each window. "They want to pretend we don't belong here," she said. "Fine. I know how to make sure they never forget we were."