Bargain hunters.

Zara and Marc stumbled across it when they least expected. But that’s often how the best things happen, isn’t it? They present themselves from a nook — or, in this case, the forest floor — when you’ve given up on the chase. And there it was, proud and pristine white, unguarded and sunning itself in the middle of the clearing. Practically begging to be taken.

‘It’s beautiful,’ breathed Zara. In setting herself at Marc’s ear, she crunched detritus underfoot.

‘Sh! Or you’ll scare it away,’ Marc whispered.

Zara scowled but he didn’t see that. His gaze was fixed forward and open, as though the act of constant watching would hold their prize in place.

‘I’m not sure this is the one for us,’ he said. ‘Isn’t it a bit fancy? Perhaps a bit under size?’

‘No, it’s perfect!’ she said. ‘The setting makes it look smaller, that’s all. Once it’s in place, properly dressed—’

‘All right, all right. Let’s get it before someone else does. Do you have the net?’

‘You know I always carry a spare. But…perhaps you’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t even be going for this. I mean, time and cost wise, it’ll set the wedding back by—’

‘Great! You stay here while I move to the other side. Then you’ll move in and I’ll net it.’

‘Same plan as usual then?’

‘Let’s do this,’ he said with a nod.

Zara took a deep breath even though what she wanted to do was scream. This very interaction had played out across their previous finds: his car; their house; their TV; their lounge suite; the surround sound system with mega bass. Other things were meant to come before all of this, but any sentimental milestones they’d planned kept falling away in favour of practical priorities because, as Marc said, ‘It makes better sense.’

She couldn’t deny she enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. And they were a tight team, the way they moved around each other, encircling and trapping their prey synchronously. This was what had brought them together. But in spite of their coordination and competitor-fending-off-ability, their prize catch was marked — a scratch here, a gouge there — enough to remind them this one had not come easily.

Once home, these marks were hidden under cover of floral damask.

‘I told you it would be perfect. This place is really taking shape.’ Marc hugged Zara around the shoulders. ‘And this weekend, we’ll find a golden retriever.’

‘A dog, really? They’re so much hard work.’

‘Hunting will be so much easier with a goldie.’

‘If you say so.’

‘You’re sounding tired, honey,’ he said, patting her on the back. ‘You should get some rest.’

She gave a weak smile and a weaker nod, but she eyed their new dining table with pride. Pinned in place by cushioned chairs, bound down by cloth and crockery as it now was, you wouldn’t know there had been a struggle.

*

Feature image by Leeloo Thefirst @ Pexels.

Leave a comment