"I'm afraid that offer is just too low," said George at the end of the phone line. I paced up and down the empty training room. I've never heard of anything that gets more expensive by £20,000 in just six weeks - but that is exactly what's happened - and it continues to happen, unblinkingly quickly, all over the nation as house prices soar. The merry-go-round is spinning faster and faster - in fact, my time for jumping on might already be over.
I wonder how to feel about all this. What does it mean? Where am I going? What does this miracle actually look like? Part of me just feels like admitting defeat, blowing all my savings on some sort of round-the-world adventure and coming back penniless, exhilarated and full of jungle-stories.
But I'm not quite that reckless. And besides, there's another part of me that would dearly love to sink my toes into my own grass or close the door on the world and curl up on a thick carpet.
"Alright George, well, listen, if they can't sell it at that price, my offer is still on the table, just so you know."
George, the estate agent, had a note of something undetectable in his voice - it might have been sympathy. Then again, it might have been derision, it's hard to tell on the phone.
"OK, thanks Matt," he said.
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