This Court has presided over matters of profound human failing, but the crime described here represents something far more sinister: the systematic disassembly of a real estate professional's will to live, executed one gray cabinet at a time. The defendant buyer—and make no mistake, SHE is the defendant here—committed what this Court can only classify as psychological terrorism via residential indecision. Twenty-three houses rejected, including one dismissed because a neighbor's CAR LOOKED SUSPICIOUS, as if the Honda Civic in question was planning something nefarious. Then, having located the holy grail of acceptable square footage, she abandons ship because a MUNICIPAL LIGHT FIXTURE cast an unflattering hue upon her dreams? Judge Escrow has seen the face of madness and it is illuminated in sodium vapor orange. The agent now sits motionless in their vehicle, staring into the middle distance like a combat veteran who has seen too much beige—and this Court finds that entirely reasonable. To the buyer: may every condo you tour have a streetlight that makes it look like a correctional facility, and may the HOA fees be INCOMPREHENSIBLE.