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Escrow
Closing by Ken
Shiovitz Insulated behind a four inch pile of number-laden legal
forms, they Previously scrutinized, then neatly organized into a manila
envelope, The escrow officer prepared to arise and extend her hand, In formal client greeting, repeatable with competent
precision. Years of mechanical sure-handed craft had benumbed all
probable hope, Except where distantly napping behind diligently amortized
calculations, That there did exist,
beyond one more couples’ fawning first purchase or strategic refinance, A single non-retired, non-manipulative, sensitive,
non-overbearing-gangster-fascist, still healthy soul. “Nice smile,” she thought as she shook his hand and
directed seating, While simultaneously setting standard defenses of patience
and suspicion. “Nice body,” he thought, noting her tanned balance and
grace, “The kind that could make a softball go thwank...and nice smile.” Extending across etched grain of the elegant cherry
hardwood desk, She presented The Disclosure Form and read upside down. “Oh, the wonders I could disclose to you,” she thought. “I wonder what is under those business clothes?” he
pondered. “Your payments are easily covered by the rents,” she stated
supportively. “I know what you are thinking,” he softly responded,
terrorizing her security, “But this property is the result of honest hard work and
careful saving.” Her relieved sigh exited through a smile tightening with
excitement. “Here is your Settlement Statement,” she said with shining
eyes, While her unsubtle heart stated, “I could settle down with you.” He signed in blue ink with bold strokes of surmounting
flair, but Her softening eyes and casual competence had eroded his
singularity. “That’s it,” she said, “You did extremely well.” “When do we close?” He asked a little too close to her
face. “Very, very soon,” she slowly exhaled, before lowering her
eyes. Six years later they strategically refinanced to purchase a
family van. |
