Craig Henderson. You are the most attractive real estate agent in the region. When 47 year old Jessica and I see your sign on the highway, on the bus station, above the takeaway, we think about retirement. We tuck our chippies in our jackets and remember the time we saw you at the fancy New World. Jessica told you your own name and I said how we never see you at the Pack and Save. You inclined your head, just like on the poster. We looked to see if savings fell out. You’re set back from the road, Craig Henderson. You’re close to schools, shops and amenities. ‘You’ve got a good heat pump, Craig Henderson,’ Jessica whispers into the drizzled air at the bus stop billboard. The sign reads GET AHEAD and Jessica scratches JOB into the Perspex over your face with the key to our share house. If we don’t, someone who doesn’t understand you will. And Craig Henderson? We have questions. Are you perfect for a family? Are you a first time dream or an opportunity to upsize? Will we have no regrets? We’ve pooled our money. After the chips we have fifteen dollars thirty cents in the hand and nine hundred and forty one in the bank. But what do you want, Craig Henderson? Your golden hands. Your reflective face. Our jackets stink of hot oil but they’re warm.