The process had started six months ago with a spreadsheet. Elias liked spreadsheets. They were predictable. He had columns for property taxes, school districts he’d never use, and "Distance to nearest high-quality sourdough." But the market in Oak Creek was a chaotic beast that didn't care about his data. He’d lost three houses already.
He made an offer that afternoon. It wasn't the highest, but he included a photo of his book collection. Two days later, he got the call. buying a new home process
It wasn't on his spreadsheet. It was tucked behind a weeping willow that looked like it was guarding a portal. His agent, Sarah—a woman who drank espresso like it was water and had the patience of a saint—handed him the keys with a smirk. "It’s weird," she warned. "But it’s your kind of weird." The process had started six months ago with a spreadsheet