Wednesday.
After the viewing of Blanco’s apartment, I sent a thank-you message. That day, I went home and quietly went to bed.

Thursday.
No reply from Blanco, no matter how long I waited. It’s not even the weekend yet, so it’s only natural, but still, thoughts kept coming and going.
Was my thank-you message creepy? Maybe because I couldn’t come up with a clever response to that joke. Maybe bringing alcohol seemed too forward.
But it’s only been a day. The viewings must still be going on. But still... I couldn't concentrate on work, my head full of all these thoughts.

Friday.
Still no reply from Blanco.
Maybe he’s trying not to get my hopes up—or maybe there’s no hope to begin with. I thought it was a fun time, but I’m an immigrant, an artist, and someone working in the food industry. Hardly what you’d call a “stable” candidate at first glance.
Maybe he found someone else—someone with a proper job. Someone American, fluent in English.
He did say, “We’ll be in touch,” but… it was Craigslist, after all.
Maybe never hearing back, never seeing him again—that's the standard outcome.

I knew it… but still, it stings.
What a lovely apartment that was.
Those two—such adorable little old men. I really wanted to see them again. Sigh...

As I began cutting up some yellowtail, weighing each slice, a deep despair started to set in.
But I didn’t feel like looking for any other listings just yet.
When work ended and I left the restaurant, one idea came to mind:

Go buy Pisco.

Pisco is a distilled liquor from Peru.
I learned about it from the Peruvian staff at the restaurant, and quickly grew to love it.
It’s made from grapes, about 40% alcohol, and tastes like a smoother tequila.
It’s strong, so it’s often served as a cocktail or taken as a shot.
I used to drink it often with coworkers and supervisors.

My favorite brand is Machu Pisco.
It’s a bit pricey, but clearly superior in taste to the more common brands available in the U.S.
As far as I know, only one store sells it: Astor Wines & Spirits.

If I ever get to see Blanco again, I’ll bring that bottle as a housewarming gift, and the three of us—Blanco, Leo, and I—can share a drink.
If I don’t see him again, I’ll take it to Takako’s house, and we’ll drink it together with her delicious food while she comforts me.

I transferred trains and got off at Astor Place.
The liquor store, just near the station, is vast and full of rare and unique liquors.
They even have a great sake selection, and prices are reasonable.

I bought a bottle of Machu Pisco and started walking down the cobblestone streets.
Looks like I’ll have to suppress this despair while working the UNIQLO event.
Can I really keep smiling in front of people for four hours?

It all felt too good to be true.
But if a meeting like this is possible, then maybe even in the face of despair, I can keep living.

If there is a god, I beg you—
If this wish comes true, I swear I’ll never belittle my life or complain again.
So please, just grant me this one miracle.

Still in a daze, I got off at the Hub and transferred to the train heading back to my neighborhood. It was 4 p.m.

I boarded a nearly empty train and sat down. I opened my Gmail app out of habit, the same inbox I’d scrolled through countless times.

And then—I noticed an unread message.

The sender was Craigslist.
It had arrived one minute ago.

A reply from Blanco.

My sluggish nerves snapped to attention in an instant.
I straightened up, trying to calm my trembling fingers as I opened the message.

“Dear Remi,
The apartment viewings are finished. If you’re still interested, I’d like you to move in. If you’re still willing, please reach out. I’ll give you the keys in exchange for the rent.
Looking forward to watching 70s movies and doing some drink tasting together.
All the best,
Blanco.”

It felt like every pore in my body opened.
Was this a dream? No, it’s real.
Not a fantasy.

The viewings were over, and they chose me as their tenant!

With trembling hands, I replied:

“Blanco, I can’t believe this. I’m on the J train right now. Yes, I would absolutely love to live in that apartment. I’d like to move in early June and am ready to pay rent and deposit. I can’t believe this is actually happening.
If you’re home, I’d love to come over right away—or tomorrow—to pay and get the keys.
I’m really looking forward to living with you both.
Let’s watch lots of movies, share music, and make great memories together.”

I hit send and took a deep breath.
I held my chest as I exhaled.
The bottle of Pisco was in my bag.

When I first started working at the Peruvian restaurant in 2022, I never imagined things would turn out like this.

The next 30 minutes felt infinite.
I refreshed the screen over a hundred times, but no reply from Blanco.
I wandered to the park near home, couldn’t stay still, and finally decided to call him.

He picked up after a few rings.

“Hello? Remi?”
“Blanco!! Did you see my email? Sorry, I was so excited that it got a little emotional.”
“Sorry, I hadn’t checked it yet. So… you’re interested in moving in?”
“What are you talking about?! YES, YES, OF COURSE YES!!!!”

I shouted with a high-pitched scream, throwing my whole body back.
Blanco laughed.

“I’m glad you’re happy. It’s a good thing for us too.”
“So, if you’re home now, I could come pay and get the keys…”
“Sure. I’m home all day today. Just let me know when you’re nearby.”
“Okay. I’m near home now—just need to change clothes. I’ll be there in about an hour. I’ll message you again soon!”

I ran home, and as I opened the front door, my roommate’s dog, Finn, came running up.
Finn had been by my side through all the tough times.
But now, our life together would soon be over.

I quickly changed clothes, touched up my makeup, grabbed the Pisco, and left the house.

“Sorry, Finn.”

I locked the door and called an Uber—something I usually avoid to save money.
A Black woman got in next to me on the way, and we exchanged a brief “Hello.”
Even though arriving early wouldn’t make a difference, I was desperate for the lights to turn green.

Please, just let me get there soon!

I arrived in front of Blanco’s apartment, thanked the driver, and got out.
I called him.

“Blanco, I’m outside.”
“Okay, I’m coming down now.”

Moments later, the front door opened.

The same curly-haired little man as Wednesday—Blanco—appeared.
With the same warm smile, he looked me in the eye and said:

“Welcome home.”

Tears welled up.

“Blanco, thank you so much.”
We hugged and walked to the room at the end of the hall.

“Let’s sit for a bit first. We can talk payment, and I’ll give you the keys.”
“Yeah, let’s do that.”

We sat at the table where Leo had eaten a sandwich earlier. He wasn’t there now.

“Thank you so much for choosing me. I was crying and shouting on the train.”
“I’m glad. It’s a good thing for us too. There’s a reason we chose you…”

What is it?! It’s rare for someone over 30 to get positive feedback so directly—I leaned in.
Was it because I draw manga? Brought alcohol? Had a good vibe?

“Because I wanted to live with a sushi chef.”

That’s it?!
I nearly fell out of my chair.

Well, whatever. It worked in my favor, and I got the place.
Back when I was suddenly told to make sushi at the Peruvian restaurant, I thought it was absurd—but now, it led me here. Life is strange.

“Of course, I’ll make sushi anytime. I’m just so happy I get to live here.
I honestly thought I had no chance. I went to buy Pisco today just hoping I might see you again.
If not, I was going to drink it with a friend while they comforted me.”
“You bought Pisco!? Wow, that’s amazing.
If you’d like, let’s have a drink.”

He brought out two shot glasses.
We poured and toasted.

We didn’t knock it back in one go—we slowly sipped, savoring it.
That familiar taste, strong enough to burn the throat.
Pisco—fierce like South America itself.

“I’m glad you feel attached to this apartment. I feel the same way.
Twenty years ago, I thought I’d never get a place like this.
There were so many applicants, but somehow I was chosen.
I’ve treasured this home since then. That’s why I wanted to pass it on to someone who’d feel the same.”

"Maybe it's because you're a good person that good things show up in front of you. That's the same reason I care so much about my friends."
"I hope that's true. It kind of makes me want to cry."

We talked about each other while sipping pisco.
Blanco told me how he used to be a huge Grateful Dead fan when he was younger and followed them across different countries.
I shared how the divorce and visa process had felt endlessly hopeless, and how my dog had helped me through it.
We talked about Blanco and Leo’s life together, his previous partner, and even about a shaman in Peru.

"We’ve been chatting so much I haven’t paid yet. May I pay you now?"
"Of course. I’ll grab the keys."

I quickly paid one month’s rent via Venmo.
In exchange, Blanco handed me two small keys.

"The round-handled one is for the apartment. The square one’s for the front door. It’s a little stiff, but you’ll get used to it. Let me know once you decide on your move-in date. Leo and I are really looking forward to it. And thank you for the pisco. I’ll save the rest for all of us to share."
"Thank you so much, Blanco. If you feel like having more, please go ahead."

With my mind slightly softened from the pisco, I said goodbye to Blanco.
In my hand were two tiny keys.
I still couldn’t believe it.
Just a week after the fallout, I had toured a new apartment, paid the rent, received the keys—and now, my move was settled.

As I walked down the lively, cobblestone street, I imagined what it would be like to live here.
Orange string lights lit the way.
It was Friday night, and well-dressed people were streaming into bars and restaurants.
The safety and convenience of this place were incomparable to my current apartment.

What I had thought was the worst possible event had triggered something wonderful.

Still, challenges remained.
I needed to talk to my current roommates.
We had just argued about money, so I’d have to tread carefully.
If I wasn’t cautious, I had a feeling they might try to charge me more than I owed.

(But for now... maybe just one more drink tonight.)

The sun had completely set, and night had fully arrived.
I hopped onto a Manhattan-bound train just as it slid into the platform.