“And we want a barn,” the woman, adjusting her sunglasses and ball cap, said.
“Forgive me for asking,” the realtor said, scratching his head, “but why do you need a barn?”
Her husband flexed. “If she wants a barn find us a barn that’s your job isn’t it?” Her husband got in his truck and slammed the door, something he told others not to do but always did himself.
The realtor made a note: BARN
She lost herself staring out into the fields as they drove back to the city. Her husband guffawed at someone on his earpiece and she stared out and into the fields as barn after barn flew by.
They had sex that night and it was better than it usually was but after he came he rolled over and passed out, snorting like a grumpy bear. She sat on the leather couch in a blanket and googled what are barns for on the iPad going from the clinical descriptions on Wikipedia to the bohemian dreamscapes of Pinterest. He woke her up the next morning with a sharp babe and a snap of his fingers.
She drove back out to the valley after he left for work. After an hour of taking arbitrary turns she found a large red barn with white trim and drove up to the property it was on. When she knocked on the screen door of the smaller house and nobody answered she walked up to the barn, its door ajar, and entered.
Cows, mooing, locked in place by metal, wrapped in blue tubes coiling down to their utters, stood in two rows to either side of her. There were no haystacks. No gentle beams of afternoon light cutting in from an opening in the roof. Clean metal and fluorescent lighting. She felt like she was in a spaceship.
One cow turned to her and mooed. She walked to it and extended her palm.
“I’ve got nothing for you,” she said as the cow sniffed her palm and licked it.
“Are you lost, lady?” A voice from behind her asked.
“Yes,” she said, turning to the man in overalls and walking past him, looking back to the cow before returning to her vehicle and calling the realtor as she drove and leaving him a voicemail where she simply said no barn.
Originally published at pulphousefire.tumblr.com.