The issue of the younger generation being pressured into buying "old earthquake resistance standard" condominiums has become a problem recently. Is it really okay to buy them? What happens to those who do? I have written this as a fictional story.
Old earthquake resistance condominiums refer to those that underwent building certification before 1981, designed to withstand earthquakes of around intensity 5. Conversely, their safety against stronger earthquakes is not guaranteed.
There is some harsh criticism at the beginning, but the person being scolded by the protagonist here is me.
It was 12:05 AM. I was looking at X.
A post like this flowed through my timeline.
<Condos are too expensive to buy. Yet my landlord contacted me about a rent increase. I'm stuck.>
While thinking "I feel you," I checked the profile and saw the poster was in his late 30s.
I thought, what kind of spineless thing is he saying?
Of course, houses are expensive now. Too expensive. Condominium prices have left the salaries of Tokyo residents behind, going up in the elevator on their own. While we are still waiting in the first-floor hall with stunned faces, the prices are already drinking champagne in the top-floor lounge. Still, I thought it was wrong for a man in his late 30s to say he "can't buy."
You guys had plenty of chances to buy.
Before COVID, even an average office worker, without a double income, could buy a 3LDK within the 23 wards. Of course, it wasn't a mansion. It wasn't directly connected to a station. It wasn't a tower mansion in Minato Ward. But you could buy a room where a family could live like human beings.
Power couples could even reach the central three wards: Minato, Chiyoda, and Chuo. In places where the names themselves have now become like financial products, back then, you could still enter as a human being.
Can't buy?
No.
You just didn't buy.
You feared buying at the peak, believed in the market crash theories, and were frightened by news of population decline and increasing vacant houses. You probably waited, believing prices would drop after the Olympics or when monetary easing ended.
While you were waiting, the door closed.
And now, you say you can't buy.
I felt a little angry seeing that post. No, I was quite angry. Because our generation is truly different.
When I joined my company in 2022, it was already the beginning of the price surge.
By 2025, when I finally got used to the job, my tax withholding slip took a decent shape, and banks began to think "this person might be allowed a mortgage," the prices were already flying far above my credit limit.
They were flying in the sky.
No matter how much I reached out or jumped, I couldn't reach them. Some could reach if they had help from parents. Some could reach with a double income. Some could reach if they were in foreign firms, trading companies, or were doctors. But for a young employee at a JTC (Traditional Japanese Company) with an annual income of 6 million yen, a house that could be bought by working normally, saving normally, and buying normally had vanished from the city center.
The door was closed from the beginning.
We are not the generation that watched the open door pass by.
We are the generation assigned to stand in front of the door after it was already closed.
I work for a certain telecommunications company with an annual income of 6 million yen.
It's not bad. However, at that level, you can no longer lead a decent life in Tokyo.
But capitalism, the weak yen, and inflation keep moving forward, leaving us behind. A condo I could have bought six months ago is no longer affordable. Every time I launch SUUMO, I doubt my eyes at the ridiculous prices. I felt like I was being laughed at by the green fluffy monster peeking from the bottom of the screen.
r > g
Piketty's theory, which I've heard so much my ears hurt. I haven't read the book. But I know the gist. In a word, investment earns more than labor. If you don't invest, you'll be left behind.
Hey, Piketty. Then let me ask, where is the capital? There is no capital to invest for someone who has just entered the gates of capitalism. Even if I invest my meager 2 million yen savings in Sumitomo Mitsui Bank and increase it by 7% a year, it's only 140,000 yen. What on earth am I supposed to do?
What should a 20-something in such a desperate situation do?
The person who presented the answer was Ririka.
*
Ririka @ Real Estate Influencer.
34 years old. Living in Minato Ward. Working for a world-renowned foreign IT company. Bought an old 1LDK in Minato Ward at 25, sold it two years later for a 10 million yen profit, used that as a down payment for a large tower mansion room. Sold at a high price following the post-COVID market, and now owns an 80㎡ 3LDK tower mansion in Azabu-juban, plus 2LDK tower mansions in Tsukishima and Osaka for investment.
That was the "setting" of this woman.
But at the time, I believed it wholeheartedly. It wasn't an impossible career path, but if I had thought about it, I had no way of knowing if it was true.
However, Ririka's arguments in her Instagram Reels were persuasive.
What should 20-somethings do in an era of inflation? The answer was clear.
"The value of the Japanese yen is dropping, so borrow money and invest."
The methodology was also easy to understand.
"Is there any bank that will lend you money because you want to buy stocks? The only thing they lend for is real estate."
That was certainly true. So what kind of real estate should I buy?
"Japan will sink. The only place that won't sink is central Tokyo. Buy a 1LDK in the central three wards, preferably Minato Ward, right now. You can afford it if it's old."
She also pushed me forward like this:
"People who don't take risks will die out."
I'll die? I thought.
"Do you want to live in a crappy rental forever?"
No, I thought.
"People who don't invest in an era of inflation will fall into the lower class."
I didn't want to fall into the lower class. But I felt like I was already starting to fall. The company I joined as a new graduate was a major one, and my parents were happy. A major telecom company. Stability. Benefits. When I say the company name, my uncle says, "You got into a good place." But I can't live in a tower mansion in Minato Ward. I can't eat sushi in Azabu-juban and pay with a jet-black card. Ririka's Instagram had all of that.
Night views. Wine glasses. Hard-to-book restaurants. The Sphere in Las Vegas. Breakfast at Aman. A Miniature Schnauzer. For some reason, flowers were always placed by the window.
And sentences that inspired me. Sentences that gave me hope.
"I didn't have any special talent. I just took a step forward at 25."
This hit the bullseye of my heart.
Ririka's profile read:
"Changing life starting from old Minato Ward properties"
"Asset building in your 20s"
"Rental Graduation Community"
"LINE only for serious people"
I wanted to be serious. So I joined the LINE Open Chat.
It was intense. More than intense, it was damp. The smartphone screen felt damp from the heavy breathing of the viewers. Every morning, someone would post, "I'll work hard on asset building today too." Someone else would write, "I went for a viewing yesterday. I trembled." Why tremble? An earthquake? No. It was apparently the trembling of a life changing.
Ririka appeared frequently.
"The time spent hesitating is the most expensive."
"People who look for reasons they can't buy will never buy."
"People who are fooled by superficial labels like 'old earthquake resistance' or 'old building' don't see the essence."
"A Minato Ward address never betrays you."
A Minato Ward address never betrays you. I screenshotted those words.
Looking back, it's not that the Minato Ward address doesn't betray you. Humans just seek salvation in a Minato Ward address on their own and feel betrayed on their own. An address is just an address. Such-and-such chome, number, and block in Minato Ward, Tokyo. It's a district decided by the administration. I was the one who ignored the quality of the building and saw hope only in the district.
*
One day, Ririka posted property information in the Open Chat.
Minato Ward, 10 minutes walk from Azabu-juban. Over 50 years old. 1DK. Renovated. Price: X million yen.
The photos were beautiful. White walls. Greige floors. A kitchen with dark gray panels. The narrowness of the room was hidden by a wide-angle camera. The words "over 50 years old" were hidden behind the words "Minato Ward." The term "old earthquake resistance" was submerged under the term "renovated."
"It's finally here," Ririka wrote.
"Honestly, I almost want it myself."
Almost want it herself.
The moment I read that, my heart rate went up. I might be able to buy something that even Ririka wants. This is amazing. This is a chance. The goddess of chance only has bangs. It's a hairstyle that would surprise even Xavier, but I have to reach out.
However, there was one calm person in the group.
"It's old earthquake resistance, right? How do you see the exit strategy?"
That person wrote that. Then the atmosphere changed.
"Here it is, looking for reasons not to buy."
"People like that will rent forever."
"It's a waste that you can only see old Minato properties on the surface."
"Haven't you seen Ririka-san's track record?"
Ririka also wrote:
"Let's look at the <essence>. People who are scared don't have to push themselves. However, I've never seen an example of someone who was afraid and did nothing building assets."
That calm person disappeared from the group after a while.
They were expelled.
At that time, I thought, I see, people without resolve are removed. Looking back, someone who was a hindrance to business was just deleted.
Left in the cage were young office workers like me, possessed by anxiety and superficial financial knowledge. People who had never opened Piketty's book, let alone could name his best-selling book.
The real estate agent was pleasant.
"This property usually doesn't come out. This price in Minato Ward is quite rare."
Rare.
"It's renovated, so you can move in right away."
Move in right away.
"You can also rent it out in the future."
Future.
"In an era of inflation, people who own physical assets are strong."
Physical assets. I borrowed money and bought it. An investment product with the practical value of living in it.
To be honest, it wasn't that I longed for Ririka's glamorous life. This isn't being tough or self-defense. If anything, I thought the marketing was old-fashioned. I thought it was like people selling network marketing or information products ten years ago.
It wasn't that I wanted that kind of life. I was just scared.
Scared that I wouldn't even be able to lead a "normal life."
My father once bought a house on the edge of the 23 wards. It wasn't a large house. Eating out was limited to twice a month. Overseas travel was only once to Korea. Domestic travel was once a year, only to my grandfather's house in Hiroshima. That level of living. But I was terrified that I wouldn't even be able to do that.
Now the yen is weak, and overseas travel is a pipe dream. Because of inflation, I only buy convenience store rice balls when a coupon comes out on FamiPay.
r > g
Piketty's formula. Laugh if you want to call it FOMO. The fear of being left behind has a physical texture.
It took time, but the loan was approved.
X million yen with an annual income of 6 million yen. It's quite a stretch. But there are things you can't reach without stretching. A life without stretching is shrunken from the start. I told myself that.
On the day of the contract, my hands were shaking a little.
Sales contract. Explanation of important matters. Management fees. Repair reserve funds. Loans. Interest rates. Repayment. Registration. Revenue stamps. Brokerage fees. Property tax. Fire insurance.
I heard many things. I heard them, but I wasn't listening.
In my head, Ririka's voice was ringing.
"People who don't take risks will die out."
I didn't want to die. So I pressed my seal.
Thus, one year ago, I became a resident of Minato Ward.
The room was small. Even though it was called a 1DK, the dining kitchen was more of a place where the refrigerator and a human had to negotiate for space. The bedroom wasn't large either. The view from the window was the wall of the neighboring building. But it was Minato Ward. Even the wall was a Minato Ward wall. Thinking that made it feel valuable.
I pretended not to see the shabby entrance on the way to the room. I pretended not to hear the creaking sound of the silver mailbox every time I opened it. I tried not to see the flickering light bulbs in the hallway or the maroon exterior that felt so Showa-era.
*
In the Open Chat, there was a culture of "purchase reports."
It was a ritual where people who bought a house would post about it, and everyone would praise their decisiveness, courage, and wise judgment.
Ririka, of course, would appear to offer praise.
That day, I was excitedly thinking about the text to post.
"I signed the contract today!"
Too light.
"I finally became a Minato Ward owner!"
Too giddy.
"I was scared, but I took a step forward."
This is it.
I took a deep breath. Then I posted.
"Today, I successfully signed the contract for an old 1DK in Minato Ward. To be honest, I was scared at first. But seeing Ririka-san's posts and everyone's actions, I thought doing nothing was more of a risk. I'll work hard so that my future self will thank me for making this decision at 25. I've graduated from renting!"
The moment I hit send, my heart leaped.
Then, the first reply came.
"Congratulations!!"
Next.
"Amazing!! A Minato Ward owner at 25 is too strong."
Next.
"You're completely on the winning track."
Next.
"Your power to take action is different."
Next.
"I'm the same age. I'm inspired."
Next.
"Only those who move even when scared can change, right?"
Next.
"Congratulations on graduating from renting!"
Next.
"A Minato Ward owner is born!"
And Ririka appeared.
"Truly congratulations. Not many people can make this decision at 25. I think you were scared. But freedom only lies beyond fear. Your self in 5 or 10 years will surely praise you today."
I read those words over and over.
I screenshotted them. My heart felt warm.
My self in 5 or 10 years will praise me.
At that time, I didn't know that instead of 5 or 10 years, my self in 1 year would feel like vomiting in the company toilet after seeing the appraisal value. I was happy because I didn't know. Not knowing is sometimes the greatest asset. However, it depreciates in an instant.
*
A year passed.
I had a girlfriend I'd been dating since my student days.
She is a banker. She's stronger with numbers than I am. She probably understands loan screenings, mortgages, credit information, and interest rates much better than I do. She was calm but observant. I hadn't consulted her in detail before buying this property.
Why?
Because I wanted to surprise her.
I wanted to be told that I was thinking seriously about life. In the world of r > g, I had taken the first step. I wanted to harvest the fruits of rising real estate prices like Ririka and present them to her.
Things were going well with her. One day, the topic of marriage naturally came up.
"I want to start thinking about it properly soon," she said.
Later, I gave her a formal proposal. At L'Effervescence, a place Ririka supposedly frequents. After a specialty of melting fire-cooked turnip and a salad using dozens of types of vegetables, and finishing a low-temperature cooked duck breast from Kyoto, I told her, "Let's get married." She nodded shyly.
I was happy. Marriage. Family. A home for the two of us. Pair loans. New condominiums. Model rooms. I thought I would sell my current 1DK, use it as a down payment, and buy a larger house with her.
I thought.
I found a condo I liked and submitted it for a mortgage screening through an agent.
The bank said:
"The condition will be the sale of your current residence."
Well, that makes sense. It's tough to buy a new condo with a pair loan while carrying an X million yen loan on my current income. I'll just sell it. It's Minato Ward. Even if it's old, a Minato Ward address never betrays you. Ririka said so too.
I put my current home up for appraisal. A reply came.
When I saw the number, at first, I didn't understand what it meant.
It was much lower than I thought.
Moreover, the agent said:
"Since it's old earthquake resistance, the loan for the next buyer will be difficult."
"Eh?"
"It's limited to those who can buy in cash or those who fit very specific conditions. It'll be hard to sell unless we lower the price."
"But it's Minato Ward."
"Even in Minato Ward, if it's over 50 years old and old earthquake resistance, the exit is heavy."
Exit.
That word suddenly took on a physical form. I had only been looking at the entrance. Ririka was at the entrance. Smiling with bleached teeth, carrying a brand-name bag, saying a Minato Ward address never betrays you. But there was no one at the exit. It was a dark hallway. The lights were flickering. Like the shabby hallway of my apartment.
I got appraisals from several companies.
They were all the same. The purchase price was too high. It won't sell. If I sell, I'll take a loss.
And that loss wasn't small. Roughly 10 million yen.
I felt like I was going to throw up. I went into a stall in the company toilet and sat there with my phone. My stomach hurt. But my life hurt too. What department should I go to for this? Gastroenterology? Psychosomatic medicine? Real estate department? There is no such department. Even if there were, it was already too late for me.
I told her. It was at a family restaurant.
"Actually, it might be quite tough."
She looked at me. I told her everything.
During that time, she remained silent.
That silence was scarier than shouting.
"Why did you buy it?" she asked.
"Well, for asset building, and inflation..."
"What kind of person is this Ririka who recommended it?"
I showed her the Instagram.
She slid her finger across the smartphone screen in silence for a while.
Eventually, she took on the face of a banker.
"This is quite dangerous."
"I thought so?"
"It's not 'I thought so.'"
She put down the phone.
"First, is this person's track record proven?"
"No, but in the posts..."
"Posts are not proof."
"But, working at GAFA..."
"There is no company called GAFA. I don't know if that's true either, and the employer and real estate investment track record are separate."
"Selling an old building for a 10 million yen profit..."
"Is she showing evidence? Even if she is, can you tell if it's real?"
I fell silent.
"What about the two old buildings she says she owns?"
"In the posts..."
"Posts are not proof. It's suspicious whether she's actually bought them."
She was right. She was so right that I looked at the hamburger in front of me. Oil was splattering on the wooden frame where the iron plate was placed. She continued.
"There's a possibility this person is taking a referral fee."
"Eh?"
"From the real estate agent. A percentage of the price you bought it for."
"No way."
"It's not 'no way.' This kind of thing is common. The brokerage fee for a 48 million yen property is 3.3% + 60,000 yen, so... roughly 1.64 million yen. 3.28 million for both sides. If she gets 30% of that... 980,000 yen? That's why she stirs people up in a closed circle to make them want to buy."
980,000 yen.
That's my bonus for a whole year. Ririka might have gained that much money just because I pressed my seal. Of course, there's no evidence. But the structure became clear.
Anxious youth.
Soaring real estate.
Instagram success stories.
Closed Open Chats.
Strong words.
Exclusion of doubters.
Overpriced old buildings.
Referral fees.
I had been preyed upon.
"It's that kind of business," she sighed.
"I think it was like a religion," I said.
She furrowed her brow.
"Rather than a religion, it's a business."
She corrected me, as if not to forgive my weakness.
It was unavoidable because there was a religious-like fever. It was unavoidable because I was like someone being deceived. She firmly blocked all such escape routes for me.
"Are you angry?" I asked.
"Rather than angry, I'm appalled," she said. That was the end of it.
I thought for a moment she might follow up with "I'm worried." But she didn't. The words cut off there. Under the cheap light hanging from the ceiling of the family restaurant, only the word "appalled" was placed on the table.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"I don't think apologizing helps," she said, and drank a little of her thin coffee.
"You should sell it already."
"Eh?"
"Even if you take a loss. It'll only get harder to sell as it gets older."
That was advice.
It was advice, but not salvation. Her voice was calm. It was the voice of a banker. A voice that looked at collateral evaluation, liquidity, and interest rates, not emotions.
You should sell it already. Even if you take a loss. It'll only get harder to sell as it gets older.
She was right. Correct. So very correct. But correct words sometimes pierce a person's chest straight. Because they aren't bent, they pierce deep, deep, deep.
I thought it was all over.
The engagement would be broken.
It's only natural. We were supposed to look for a house together and build a life. Before that, the old earthquake resistance 1DK in Minato Ward that I had taken on alone came slithering out from under the floor like a stupid snake. Superficial renovation. Over 50 years old. Old earthquake resistance. X million yen. No exit.
If something like this is presented before marriage, people usually run away.
A normal person would first voice their grievances and then run.
She voiced her grievances to me. Then it's time to run.
*
At night, I couldn't help but send a DM to Ririka.
"I found out that the property I bought on your recommendation is difficult to sell because it's old earthquake resistance. It seems it was quite overpriced to begin with. Weren't you receiving a referral fee? I think you have a duty to explain."
Send.
It was marked as read immediately.
A reply came immediately too.
"Self-responsibility."
That was all.
Self-responsibility.
Two words. (Note: Four characters in Japanese: 自己責任)
Could there be words so short and so correct? She was right.
I inquired myself. I viewed it myself. I signed the contract myself. I pressed the seal myself. Ririka didn't take my hand and press the seal. The words "old earthquake resistance" were in the documents. The fact that it was over 50 years old was also there. I just didn't prioritize them.
So, self-responsibility.
She's right.
She's right, but I'm angry.
She's right, but I'm sad.
She's right, but I think, "You're the one to talk."
I hardly slept that night. Since I couldn't sleep, I looked at the appraisal value on my phone again. It didn't change. Old earthquake resistance is old earthquake resistance, over 50 years old is over 50 years old, and things that are hard to get loans for are hard to get loans for.
The Minato Ward address was just the Takashimaya wrapping paper covering that shabby reality. Ririka would probably laugh. "Buying at Takashimaya is for old people or country folk. Shop at Azabudai Hills in Minato Ward."
Even if I escape into silly fantasies, reality doesn't change.
At this rate, things will only get worse.
The next day, after much agonizing, I called my father.
"What's wrong?" my father's voice was the same as always. I made up my mind and said:
"I want you to lend me money."
The moment I said it, the pit of my stomach shrank. I thought I had become a bit of an adult. But I felt like I had suddenly returned to being a middle schooler. My voice sounded like I was asking for club camp fees.
I told him everything. My father listened in silence until the end.
Then he said:
"How much do you need?"
"I want you to lend me 10 million yen."
10 million yen.
After saying it, I felt like I was going to throw up. It's money my parents saved for their life after retirement. The "20 million yen for retirement" problem—exactly half of that. I recently read an article saying "20 million isn't enough because of inflation." An unfilial and dull son who uproots his parents' peace of mind.
My father was silent for a moment and then said:
"I got my retirement bonus. I'll take it from there."
"Thank you" got stuck in my throat. I didn't want to ask for this. When I got into the best high school in the prefecture, when I got into Keio University, my father was happy. When I got the job offer from my current company, he was even happier. Now look. I'm making my father use a voice so full of bitterness.
"I'll definitely pay you back."
I managed to squeeze out the words.
"I know."
"I'll write a promissory note, and I'll pay interest properly."
"I know."
"I'll definitely pay you back."
"I don't think you're the type to default."
"Yeah."
"Failure is fine. Just don't mess up how you fold things up when you fail."
At those words, I cried a little.
After hanging up, I wrote the promissory note. A loan agreement. Lender. Borrower. Loan amount. Repayment date. Repayment method. Interest. Late payment charges.
I didn't think it was okay to be vague just because we're parent and child. Rather, I thought that because we are parent and child, it shouldn't be vague.
I pressed my seal. It was much heavier than the seal on the sales contract for my current residence.
*
A few days later, she came to my house.
Naturally, she had visited here many times. But it was the first time she saw it as a room I had bought.
"I thought this was a rental," she said. "It's a direct commute to work, too."
I said, "I'm sorry for keeping it a secret."
"But I also wondered if it would be okay if there was an earthquake."
At those words, my chest shrank again.
"I'm sorry," I said again. She was standing in the middle of the room. Without even sitting in a chair. I thought it was finally coming.
Words of parting. Breach of engagement.
It's only natural. I betrayed her trust. Before marriage, I hid something major related to our future household finances. And I believed in a sparkly influencer on Instagram. Pathetic. If patheticness had a building age, I would be old earthquake resistance myself.
She said:
"I have no intention of breaking up."
I didn't understand the meaning right away.
"Eh?"
"I have no such intention," she said again. I stared at her face.
"But it's true that I'm angry."
"Yeah."
"It's also true that I'm appalled."
"Yeah."
"However, it was decent of you to write a promissory note and pay back your parents with interest."
Decent.
That word strangely resonated in my chest.
I'm not a doctor, a lawyer, or a capitalist. I'm just a JTC employee. Moreover, an employee who got stuck with an old earthquake resistance property. I thought there was no element of decency anywhere.
"You're trying to take responsibility," she said.
"If you were a pathetic man who just cried to your parents and had them give you the money, I might have broken off the engagement."
Those weren't kind words. But they were more effective than kindness.
I nodded.
"I'll pay it back properly."
"Yeah."
"I'll save money."
"Yeah."
"I'll work hard too."
"Just work normally hard."
She laughed a little.
With that laugh, I felt like the narrowness of the room became a little better. I just felt that way; in reality, it's narrow. Old earthquake resistance is old earthquake resistance. I don't even know if I can sell it. Even if I can, I'll take a loss. I have the debt to my father. Restoring trust with her is yet to come. Nothing has been resolved.
But it wasn't over.
*
I'm going to sell this room. On the way back from signing a mediation contract with a real estate agency, I opened my phone.
A notification from the Open Chat had arrived.
Ririka had made a new post. Along with information on an old earthquake resistance property 9 minutes walk from Mita Station, she added a powerful message:
"Only those who take on challenges change their lives."
"There's no exit for old earthquake resistance."
"Aren't you taking a margin, Ririka-san?"
I was about to type such things but stopped. Instead, I quietly pressed the leave button.
In front of the station, she was waiting. Looking at her, I thought I should do things properly. I thought I should save properly, work properly, and pay back properly.
Reality doesn't change.
After that, I bought and read Piketty's 'Capital in the Twenty-First Century.' It was thick, but I read it properly.
Piketty wasn't saying "invest." He was saying that "there is a problem in a social structure where people who have assets from the start get even wealthier."
His argument was that society should be one where people who work properly are rewarded properly.
I agree. I completely agree. However, social change takes time, and it's not guaranteed to change. I have to live in this capitalist society while carrying a 10 million yen handicap.
The four characters "Self-responsibility" that came from Ririka. This was the most useful thing she said.
No one will take responsibility for my choices. The reason I'm carrying a 10 million yen debt is entirely due to my lack of study.
I've learned since then. Desperately.
Amateurs shouldn't touch them, but old earthquake resistance properties themselves aren't necessarily bad. The cause was that I was taken for a margin and made to buy something overpriced.
Panicked by inflation, unable to see through the structure of Ririka's business, and acting like a big-shot investor without even reading Piketty's book—that was the cause. Not doing things properly was the cause.
"Properly" is a plain word. However, it's probably plain words like that that bring a life back.
Properly.
I said it to myself many times in my heart.
Pay back properly.
Work properly.
Consult properly.
Learn properly.
Live properly.
She noticed me and waved. Without rushing, I will live through this, properly.
(The End)
To repeat, this story is fiction and has no specific model.
I didn't like an unhappy ending, so I made it a happy ending, but I think an ending where he gets dumped by his girlfriend is also possible...
I have published various other "Condo Literature." Each story takes about 5 minutes to read, so please take a look if you'd like!
