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Betsy Litrell

She wanted that house so badly that she licked the door on the way out after she viewed it: she thought her tongue would

seal the deal. She wanted it not just for its stainless steel appliances, double sinks or extra bedroom, not for the

closet cozy enough for a midday nap. Not because most of her furniture would fit just right and

she wouldn’t have to paint the walls. It wasn’t the space but it was the space — this place could deliver

joy. So when she heard another family got the house instead, she knew it was an omen. Maybe just for the

week, maybe for a thousand years. She crawled back to her house and couldn’t decide which house she planned to burn.