In a novel, the hero races against time to find the bad guy, to stop the bank heist, or kiss the heroine before the other guy does.
I intended to write a Flash Fiction story Saturday afternoon. The deadline was midnight and the topic safety vs. danger. I tossed around a few ideas, when the phone rang. My roofer guy said he was on the way to our (potentially) new house, and asked if we would like to meet him there. Since a roof is an important feature of a house, and certainly a higher priority than winning a Flash Fiction contest, I decided to go look at the roof.
Long story short, the house needs a new roof. Okay, nothings perfect. But what burnt us is that the seller told us the roof is seven years old, when in fact it’s more like 20. Our roofer, who has been in the business for decades, told us that he could tell the age by the materials used and the amount of wear on the shingles.
Mr. Porter and I are ready to walk away from this deal. Meanwhile, our realtor left us a message to keep moving forward with the paperwork. The commitment letter from the bank needs to be signed. This is NOT the first rodeo Mr. Porter and I have attended. We are not signing any mortgage commitment until someone pays for a new roof.
We have decided to stop the clock. Amidst the emails and phone calls we are pausing to look at the big picture. We might walk away. There will be another race against the clock another day.
What would John Grisham do?