Now, the moving truck was idling at the curb. Leo walked through the empty living room, his footsteps echoing on the fresh hardwood. He climbed the stairs to the top floor and stepped onto the deck. The sun was setting, turning the glass skyscrapers in the distance into pillars of gold.
The "buying" part had been a crash course in adulting. He learned the difference between an inspection and an appraisal (the hard way), spent three nights straight signing digital documents until his eyes crossed, and had a minor heart attack when he saw the final closing costs. buying a townhome
He realized he didn't just buy square footage; he bought a place where he could finally hang a picture without asking a landlord for permission. He pulled a single folding chair out of a box, sat down on his roof, and watched the city lights flicker on. Now, the moving truck was idling at the curb
The process had been a whirlwind. He remembered the first "open house" weekend—the frantic energy of couples eyeing the crown molding and the silent calculations everyone was making about the HOA fees. He’d lost out on two previous bids, victims of the dreaded "all-cash, no-contingency" offers that seemed to haunt the market. The sun was setting, turning the glass skyscrapers
The keys felt heavier than they looked. After months of scrolling through blurry listing photos and touring places that smelled like damp basements, Leo was finally standing in front of unit 4B. It wasn't a sprawling estate, but it was his.
But then came this townhome. It was a three-story narrow build with a brick facade and a rooftop deck that looked out over the city’s skyline.