Our Gothic Dreamhouse

This was their dream.

A beautiful Gothic homestead in the suburbs.

A place where she could cook him meals, knit him sweaters, satisfy his every need.

It was only fair; after all, he had worked for so long for this moment.

Thirty years, in fact.

Thirty years of his life toiling in a field where nothing dared to grow.

Thirty years spent dealing with dry spells, locust plagues and suspiciously poisoned crops.

Thirty years of having her tired blue eyes staring down his back as he walked out of the door to work every morning, only to have the same reception when he came home every night.

Thirty years without intimacy, thirty years childless.

Thirty years in the same country, in the same state, in the same house.

But not anymore.

Now, for the first time in thirty years, they could spend their days side by side, locked in unending holy matrimony right here.

A beautiful Gothic homestead in the suburbs.

This was their dream.