Bev honestly didn’t see what the big deal was. A Tupac money clip, was he serious? A sign? Of what?
“Tupac clip babe, don’t you see?”
She couldn’t spend another moment straight-faced listening to his excitable musings. The more animated he grew, the stronger her urge to laugh poked at the corners of her mouth. Although juvenile, she adored this side of his personality. No matter how successful and ambitious he is, it only takes a quick bit of nostalgia for him to revert to his younger mind. How could she not marry this man? The way he attributed so much meaning to a mere act of coincidence keeps her entranced, even after seven years of dating. Sure, they had discussed the loss of Tupac after compiling their individual CD collections into one. And, although his Tupac CDs rested in the Tupperware archive, he was now resurrecting said CDs from the bin and placing them on top of the others on the corner shelf beside the television.
Haphazard conversations arose aplenty during their move. With each old room emptied, box moved and unpacked in their new premises, they talked about lives they’ve led, together and not, and fabricated their future in this new home. She wasn’t searching for signs. She was simply pleased that they had made this move, after this much time spent in separate homes. She kept silent her hopes for further progress. Start with a home.
Her laughter finally let lose, but it was heartfelt and caressed his bruised ego while her right hand stroked his cheek. He slipped the money clip back into his pocket, slightly dismayed, but knowing that he---or rather it---would prove to her soon what he already felt. He knew from experience that three signs are the charm. He was already one step closer.