The chime of my alarm clock sliced through my sleep as I fumbled into consciousness. I killed the sound in a matter of moments with a whack towards the button atop, massaging my sore eyelids with my other paw as they adjusted to the soft light of morning. The sunlight bled from the window at the side of the room and blanketed it in its entirety, caressing the pale blue walls and white carpet floors. As of yesterday, I had finally trained out the initial instinct to double take at the sight of the new room. After residing in my last house for about three years or so, the first week in a new house was jarring.

I heaved myself out of bed to get dressed. I buttoned up my work shirt—A salmon-pink t-shirt decorated and patented by the company of Nook Incorporated and its logo of a leaf—And paired it with a white skirt. A high-hanging glass chandelier caught a ray of sunlight as I crossed the entryway to reach my kitchen, my brown flats tapping against the floor with every step. I packed up a cute little lunch of cucumber slices, a peanut butter and honey sandwich that I sliced up into the shape of a heart, a square container of mixed vegetables, and a candy bar from the collection for dessert. Sometime during the summer last year, I realized that my body felt healthier and more alert cutting out meats from my diet, so I went full vegetarian and never looked back. I closed everything up into a pink bento lunchbox and set off again with a glass of water to tend to the potted plants I kept by my front door.

"Bye, bye, my lovelies," I purred, finishing the last drops of water from the glass into the dark soil. I set the glass down on the side counter jutting out from the wall, switched it for my knitted gray bag next to it, and ducked out the door. The sun had just fully ascended from the horizon by the time I stepped through the doorway, swimming in a sea of pale blue in the early morning sky. Being hardly eight thirty while my shift was scheduled to begin at nine o'clock sharp, I made a few stops on my way.

Now seven years old, Timothy and Thomas were deemed old enough to gain new responsibilities and were put to work in a shop that we opened up on the island—Nook's Cranny, in honor of the first. Although, as of recently, they decided to be referred to as Timmy and Tommy instead. I swung by the shop and exchanged my good mornings with the twins, greeted by smiling faces and impeccable customer service for kids of their age. They had even been gifted identical pairs of uniforms: A blue t-shirt underneath a white apron identified with the same logo as mine. I grabbed a cup of coffee to-go from a modest little coffee bar in the museum that had flung open its doors around the same time that Nook's Cranny did. I finished my coffee on the walk to my own office, a building I shared titled the Resident Services building, and tucked the cup into my bag.

I emerged into the building just a hint after nine o'clock. It was a considerably small building, one of only one main office with the exception of a storage room through a door at the back. It was a particularly warm-toned room, creating a cozy space that felt so gentle to spend time in. The floor was a soft-orange tile and the walls a sunny yellow, all bordered by a dark brown wood. Behind an extensive wooden counter stretching from wall to wall were the only two office desks in use, propped up together with swivel chairs facing each other at either end. One of them, however, was occupied.

"Oh, good morning, Isabelle," Tom greeted me after glancing up from his work. His black laptop computer was propped open in front of him and his paws still rested against the keys after pausing his typing.

"Good morning!" I replied. I flashed him a cheerful smile before lifting the hinged flap on the end of the counter to cross the barrier to my own seat.

"How are you today?" Tom asked me as I ducked under the lifted flap and carefully lowered it back to its neutral state.

"I'm doing great!" I shrugged the strap of my knit bag from my shoulder. "How are you?"

"I'm all right," Tom told me. "Still very tired."

"It's still early yet," I pointed out, bending at the waist to set down the bag next to my swivel chair.

"Mm-hmm," Tom said, though he was examining his computer screen again.

The new routine was still fresh, a week to be specific, and still unusually unfamiliar. I could only have wondered how I could have possibly adjusted to a new island so soon after moving while I was a teenager. In fact, around this time last year, I hadn't had any clue whatsoever that I would have been departing from the island I had called my home for as long as I was working, but Tom had other plans. He put into motion an endeavor called the Island Getaway Package, inviting a willing participant to come with the Nook Inc. crew to assist in preparing a previously deserted island. Tom himself had first taken the journey out two weeks ago to ensure that everything was ready to proceed. The twins and the participant arrived next to begin the project, all the while I closed up the shop where I formerly worked to prepare to follow suit. I had already purchased my new house on the other island before I even caught my flight out, but the day I first arrived was the day I first stepped foot into my new home.

I straightened up from my bag again, my eyes involuntarily skimming across my currently empty desk. This would have been where I would have usually began my work. To begin the day, my first task before anything was to broadcast a live session of daily announcements and news through the lens of a camera to all of the listening residents of the island. Today, I had another task to finish first.

"Do you mind if I make a quick call?" I requested, glancing across the desks to meet Tom's gaze again as he lifted his eyes from his computer.

"Sure, that's fine," Tom replied politely.

The phone was hardly feet from my desk, a white and cordless device sitting on the wooden counter. I wheeled my chair up to the edge and plopped into a seat, plucking the phone from the receiver. I paused, silently rehearsing the number in my head a few times before I punched them in. When the phone began to ring out on the other side, I tucked it under my floppy ear and dropped my free paw down casually onto my lap. As expected for the animal I was calling, the phone was picked up after no longer than two rings.

"Shih Tzu residence," the voice of my mother spoke on the other line after the click of the phone being answered.

"Hi, Mom," I said. "It's Isabelle."

"Isabelle, my darling!" Mom gushed. The clock hung from the wall ticked with every passing second of our conversation. "I didn't know you were planning to call me so early. I'm barely awake, myself. I didn't even make my coffee yet. But don't think that means I'm not happy to hear your voice, even if it was just yesterday that I heard it."

I had been settled down on my couch to watch the television as the evening winded down, getting a grasp on the news and the weather for the week, before my cell phone buzzed with an incoming call from my mother. We had talked a few times before, but we were still gathering routine to make it a habit. Last night, it wasn't an audio call I had received, but a video call, which was something new. I had utilized the video chat feature twice or three times already by professional means, but for casual means, this was a first. I spent the evening striking up a conversation with my mom and dad crammed in together to fit into a little rectangular screen while they stirred a tall pot of reddish-brown soup.

Across the duration of the call, we rotated between different topics of conversation. They were curious about the sudden shift in my work and residence, so I told them all about the new project I was involved in. I was curious about what life was like back at home. Apparently, according to them, I had left a very slow and peaceful life behind. Mom rambled about various parts of her day and any drama that had ensued while I intently listened. It was around this time that I caught the sound of the kitchen door swinging open and a glimpse of my brother standing in the doorway whenever the phone turned the right way. I hadn't seen him directly since we were seventeen, so the image of him instantly burned into my memory as he stood there six years later. There was less tension in his expression than I remembered, more of a peaceful demeanor. I even heard him laugh, sudden and genuine, when the phone slipped from Mom's paw and clattered against the rim of the pot before plunking down into the soup and flooding my image with darkness instead. She fished the device out of the soup quick enough to prevent any lasting damage, considering I hadn't been kicked off the call by loss of power, but the audio was fuzzier after that.

"I had so much fun talking to you," I told her. The clicking of Tom's typing rapidly went on as his paws were evidently flying across the keyboard. "That was quite an experience."

"I really do need to learn how to better take care of my technology, don't you think?" Mom replied. As I had contacted her through the home phone rather than her cell phone—I hadn't yet gotten around to memorize her personal number—The clarity in her voice was still present. "You know, I was thinking about that call after you hung up and went to bed. Your brother got home from work while we were talking and he didn't want to interrupt us, but I should have had you two do some talking."

"That's okay. We have time," I assured her. "How's he doing? Why did he arrive so late? That must have been... Like, eight o'clock, I think."

"Oh, he's doing so well," Mom said. An inch of weight lifted from my shoulders at the sound. "He's working so hard to take care of himself and do what he needs to be happy. That used to be such a struggle for him. I don't know what changed, but I'm grateful for it. I really, really am."

"Well, that's fantastic news," I remarked.

"As for why he arrived so late, he's taken up walking Lottie home when their workday ends at six o'clock," Mom explained. "They've been so close lately. It just warms my heart. It's so thoughtful for him to look after her like that. I was worried about him feeling drained to get home so late, but he arrives with a smile every single day."

"I'm just glad to know that they're getting along again," I said. My foot wrapped absentmindedly around one of the spokes of the chair. "I'm guessing you heard what happened."

"I did, yes," Mom admitted regrettably. "We don't like to talk about that in this house, so we tend to pretend it didn't happen for the sake of stomping on his mood for the day. Anyway, I won't take up any more of your time. Go have a wonderful day, my little star."

"I will," I promised. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you so much, Isabelle. Remember that," Mom told me. "All three of us here love you more than you can imagine."

We exchanged our goodbyes and my morning, previously put on hold, was on the road again. I poured myself a glass of iced tea from the beverage station on a square counter in the back of the room and was back at my desk in minutes to release the daily island news. I set up a camera on the empty space of my desk as Tom relocated his computer to his lap, politely waiting to use it until I finished recording. I hadn't been made aware of any official announcements to list off beforehand, but I was still required to fill the airtime, so I fell into habit with this occurrence and took up the space with positive details about my own experience. I explained how I had just last night enjoyed a pleasant video call with my parents and suggested for the listening viewers to check in with their own parents if they didn't often. I concluded the recording, locked away the camera in the storage room, and my day officially began.

A powerful sense of tranquility danced with the sunlight that was cast across the room. It was almost as if the air was easier to breathe in here, that this was as much home and security as the house I owned. Complete, utter relaxation sunk down into my bones as I sat at my desk, listening to both the endless typing of Tom at his computer across the way and the ticking of the clock. For the first several minutes, I soaked myself in the sensation before beginning work, delighting in the serenity of the morning. This was already so much different from working in the shop in all of the best ways. My work in the shop was linked to some of the most unfavorable times of my life, but here, I could nearly sense the good memories on their way. Additionally, I was finally spending my shift alongside Tom again, and that alone was enough to rocket my spirits with the snug energy he carried. There was quite a good chance that I was happier than I had ever been.

I was a decent way through scribbling a list of tasks I needed to accomplish today into a pocket-sized sky blue notebook that I often transported to the office with me in my bag when thoughts of last night began to seep in again. I recalled sitting on my couch before the call came through, sinking comfortably into my cushions with my eyes glued to the television screen. I had tuned in to the local news and weather, discovering that the week was to bring beautiful, ideal sweeps of warmth starting this morning. It must have been so nice out right about now, while I sat inside this office with my face bowed into a book. Maybe it was a good idea to get some fresh air.

I set aside my work and was granted permission from Tom to step out for a bit. A mild breeze welcomed me through the doors, brushing through the area and rattling the bells in my ponytail. I raised my arms as the doors fell shut behind me, straining into a stretch for a few seconds before returning to a natural position. The sun was burning halfway up the sky, casting large shadows across the brick plaza surrounding the building, and a few clouds reached across the sky in such a perfect pattern that remarkably reminded me of a painting. The breeze fiddled with the leaves of trees that lined the area, shimmering under the sunlight with every flicker. The grass between the trees, leading off into the island farther than I could see, swayed gracefully in the direction the wind pushed it.

I let in a deep breath, breathing in every moment and sensation like the scent of a well-tended flower. Between public campsites and temporary houses, now this was the place I called home. I could have easily seen myself becoming so well acquainted with this humble little island. I always valued a community in wherever I lived. With the close-knit area with charming little homes for every animal I called my neighbor and sites for everything one could ever need, this island was exactly that. For once, I had my own little corner in the world, one where I could have celebrated my successes in peace. Once I considered it, and I had countless moments since the flight landed on this island, I had already achieved every single thing I had set out to do. My name was out in the world, reaching further than I could even have fathomed. Finding myself recognized and even praised became a usual occurrence, both through Nook Inc. and my past work at Smash Ultimate, though I wasn't one to brag. Because of this, I had in turn changed the world just enough to be satisfied. I could have only imagined the thrill on the face of puppy me if she knew where I would be today. I had done my part, now the universe treated me with a simple life.

I wouldn't have changed it for the world.