Sally notices the electrical tower as they came down the hill. Danny flings a finger out, pointing in the general direction, saying "there she is". She squints as she scans the tiled roofs panning out in front of them. The road neatly dissecting the suburb like a heart bypass scar.
Danny's grin as he opens the door for her is infectious. That they, Danny and Sally, two stupid kids who got married, saved up a deposit and then got knocked-up, could live in their very own home. They'd be bringing their son or daughter up in a house that they owned.
Sally struggles to get her stomach out of the compact car, not so much because of her belly, but because of the buzzing sound coming from overhead. She straightens, steps out of the gutter and looks at the for sale board. And then she follows the steel girders to the enormous tower with its wires crossing over the little house.
"Its right in the front yard," she says loud enough for Danny to hear.
"Babe, it’s not as bad inside," he says.
With the door closed, it sounds like a murmur electrifying the air. She closes her eyes and imagines years down the track. People who live near train lines don't hear the noise, so why wouldn't this be any different?
"The couple who are selling have lived here for seventeen years," Danny says.
"And they didn't go insane?"
"Not insane, but they are getting divorced. I'd have to be insane if I was ever going to let you go."
He plants a kiss on her forehead. She can feel the excitement course through him and wonders if their life together will be enough to keep generating a love that won't suffer blackouts.