A slight gasp quickly escaped me as my feet nearly slipped out from under me, causing me to wobble suddenly before finding my balance on the side of the hill. This was not the first time that I had stumbled while moving down the hill on the way to the campsite and with both my clumsiness and how slippery the grass was, surely it wouldn't be the last. As usual, a twinge of embarrassment flicked through my gut, and I hoped that no one had seen me as I continued to descend down the hill.

The sun was shining brightly down on me today, light rays cast warmly over the world like it was some sort of oven slowly gathering heat. It was not uncommon for the temperature to rise to such an extent at this point in time, as it was currently mid-June, the twentieth to be exact. This was a somewhat special day for me. It was the day where I could finally call myself seventeen and a half years old, just six months away from reaching eighteen. It wasn't a day to go unnoticed, so I treated it as such.

I leveled out onto the grass again, greeted by an array of tan-colored tents, but I was sure that I would have no trouble finding my own. It had been over a month since I first arrived to stay in the campsite—Wandering through the tents and locating mine would only be an act of routine. Hanging over the crook of my arms and bouncing against my leg with every step were two summer dresses that I had just purchased for myself minutes before, both for the occasion at hand and the changing of the season. One of them was bright red, surrendering to elegant ruffles in the skirt, and the other a soft turquoise. I had been looking forward to trying them on once I reached my tent again, but before that could happen, I had other plans first.

I strolled through the assemblage of tents in search of my own with the intense heat of the summer morning pulsing down on me, longing for nothing more than a cool, refreshing midday nap. My tent was near the middle of the collection, the door facing where I approached, but it was because of this that I could see a sheet of paper with small text taped over the number. One of the campsite managers must have put it up while I was out shopping. I cautiously approached the tent door, shifting my new dresses onto one arm and peeling the slip of paper off the fabric. My heart had already begun to quiver faintly with a thought to cross my mind that my tent was being removed from me for whatever reason, but as my eyes ran along the text, I found that this wasn't quite the case.

Good morning,

If you have received this sheet of paper on the door of your tent, there is a piece of information that is needed to come to your attention. Per the campsite's policy, any resident that has continued a stay in one of the provided tents for longer than one month has been permitted residence in one of the vacant houses supplied for a more extensive stay. This option is free of cost and can be ignored if residence in the public campsite is preferred. If this sign has appeared on your tent specifically, then this option has been approved for your choosing. In the potential event of your decision to follow through with this option, your house has already been assigned to you. If not taken within the next month, the assignment will move on to the next resident. Please see below for further information.

Your house number:  3

Length of stay: Determined by resident

Cost: None

A new house! My heart was soaring from the news. I couldn't even count the weeks that had gone by since I had lived in a proper house. The house that the instructions mentioned must be from the little resident gathering on top of the hill. I had passed by a number of times and had since gathered a vague idea of its purpose. In a matter of moments, the nap I had hoped to take was tossed out of priority. My paw shot downward to yank up the flap of the door in the tent without a beat of hesitation and I hastily ducked into the tent, restless to begin packing. My backpack was still laying over the middle of the floor, abandoned beside the rustled sleeping bag, allowing me to easily grab hold of it as I dropped to my knees.

The first items I packed away were the summer dresses I had bought earlier, since they were still folded over my arm. I crammed them both deep into the backpack, pressing them down as far as I could manage before reaching for the pillow at the head of the sleeping bag. I had no problem finding space for the pillow in the backpack as it was so small, but I still needed room for the sleeping bag. I nudged the backpack aside, snatching hold of the sleeping bag in preparation to begin rolling it up. My actions were rushed and my paws were shaking slightly, yet I persisted until it was both rolled and fastened. It wasn't as tightly packed as I would have hoped and looked greatly untidy from my hasty work, but surely it would do.

I shoved the sleeping bag into the backpack after my other belongings, straining to lift the fabric around it and zip it shut. With everything packed and a floor left bare, I climbed to my feet and heaved my backpack onto my shoulders before slipping out from inside the tent and departing without a glance back. My heart was thudding with a hopeful anticipation from the moment I set foot into the outside world on the way to my new house. I passed tent after tent with a slight bounce of joy to my step, knowing that I would no longer live among them, but only when this thought crossed my mind I realized how bittersweet the situation was. Everything around me had been little pieces of my journey from as soon as it had begun here and now it was time to move on to something different.

Oh, well. I didn't linger on this thought for long, shifting my focus back to the present situation at hand as I approached the rise of the hill. Treading back up the hill was a bit of a strain, especially with the backpack drooping from my shoulders, leaving me gasping for air by the time I reached the top. What first greeted me at the top of the hill was the brick road paved over the grass, a wide path stretching between an array of identical houses on either side. I started off down the path between the rows of houses, adjusting the straps of my backpack to dispel some anxious energy, and took note of the house numbers above the doors that would count down to my own.

Houses engraved with even numbers counted down on my left, starting with twenty-four, which implied that I would find my house on the right. I strolled down the path with the straps of my backpack in my tight grip, head swiveling with every house I passed to keep track of the numbers going by and listening to the jingle of the bells in my ponytail with every glance. It was only near the end of the row when I came across the third house, standing between one and five, so I turned off of the path to head for the stairs to the door.

The house was tall and narrow with a display of tidy white walls under a black roof, exactly the same as every other along the way. A set of dark wooden stairs brought me to a door presenting extravagant carved designs, curling around a round door knob, and above this door sat a plate capturing a glint of sunlight chiseled with the number '3'. For the first time in my life, it was a house of my very own!

I climbed up the stairs, twisting the door knob as soon as it came into reach and thrust the door open. The door omitted a lengthy, high-pitched whine as it swung open, gradually revealing the inside of the house as I cautiously peered in. Shadows danced in the corners of the room, leaping out of sight as sunlight pooled over the floor, yet the darkness still hanging in the air was still nearly too thick to see through even with the open door.

I inched through the doorway, shutting the door behind me as my eyes darted to locate a light switch. I found it on the wall next to the door and fumbled to flick it on, causing lights to flood through the space as I turned back to glance around. The space before me was split openly between two rooms. To my left, I found a round table in the center of what must have been the dining room, joined by a few chairs left sitting around it. On the right was a kitchen, walls lined with cupboards with tiny knobs to open with, wide counters, a stove and oven, and a counter island in the middle holding an extra sink. Each window around the room was covered by a white curtain hanging over it, but the sunlight still bled through it even with the lights glowing from the ceiling.

I first drifted towards the kitchen, wandering around the counter island to examine the space before reaching for the cupboard knobs. I yanked the cupboard doors open with a prying curiosity to see what had been left for me, but couldn't find myself surprised to see that the inside had been left completely empty. Despite this, I peeked into each of the remaining cupboards to check if the situation was similar, quietly shutting each door after finding the interior bare until I had fully scoured each cupboard. Absolutely nothing. If anything had been made clear to me by the search, it was that I desperately needed to start buying essentials for myself.

An ache had begun to pulse faintly through my shoulders when I pushed the final cupboard door closed. It had been quite some time since I had worn my backpack for this long at a time. I would need to find a place to unpack before the pain spread to my back. I shifted the straps of the bag, entering the dining room from the kitchen to discover an open doorway at the back leading to a hallway. Restless to find the bedroom to unload my belongings, I cleared out from the dining room to make my way through the hallway, slipping through the door at the end to discover just the room I was searching for. The head of a flat, wide bed was pushed up against the back wall, dark maroon blankets tucked tightly around the mattress with thin white pillows. A nightstand beside the bed supported a small, round lamp that was not yet lit. As far as furniture, that was where the list ended, leaving the rest of the floorspace vacant.

It was time to unpack. I tugged the backpack from my shoulders and plopped it down onto the bed, seating myself beside it to start unzipping. Once opened, the first sight that the interior of the backpack greeted me with was my emerald green sleeping bag, congesting the very top. That would need to be put away for storage, that much was clear, and wouldn't have a place in the bedroom. I pried the sleeping bag free from the backpack, tossing it carelessly beside the bed before reaching my paws inside again. Onto the floor went the pillow as well before I came across the two dresses I had stuffed inside before I left. I piled them both up in my arms, leaping to my feet to scan the room for any type of closet before spotting a set of double closet doors in the middle of the wall to my right.

As expected, the closet contained no clothes when I drew open the doors, but I had the bonus of a few extra hangers left dangling from a single bar above my head. I slipped each dress onto individual hangers, smoothing them down as I did so after they had been so crumpled in the backpack, and left them there to shut the doors again. It was already starting to seem like I was leaving my mark on the house, even if it was just a couple of my dresses in the closet.

I returned to the backpack on the bed prepared to continue packing, peeking inside to find the stack of books that had caused the bag to become so heavy. As of the current moment, I had no bookshelf to collect them in—I would need to purchase one as soon as the opportunity was presented to me. Instead, I resolved to stack them at the foot of the bed for safekeeping, withdrawing the books one after the other and dropping them into a pile on the floor. The backpack was mostly empty now, quickly becoming lighter with every lift. A few extra smaller tools including my guidebook and several bags of Bells were dumped out onto my bed and, once I was able to locate the storage room through a door in the back of the room, kept me busy as I spent a number of trips delivering pawfuls of objects to storage. The task was completed in less than five minutes, leaving the fact clear that I had finished unpacking all of my belongings and had nothing left to do.

The free time that had been thrust into my paws sent me wandering back into the kitchen, brought by a thought to cross my mind that I hadn't yet examined everything there was to see. With any luck, maybe some food had been left in the fridge for me, possibly as a complimentary housewarming gift. Pulling open the refrigerator door to find it absolutely cleared out helped the disappointment to set in, though I wasn't necessarily surprised, and there was nothing for me to find in the freezer above it, either. I pushed the freezer door shut and averted my gaze with a weak throb of uncomfort in my stomach. I had absolutely nothing to start with. I desperately needed to start getting my own groceries and I needed to do so as quickly as possible. If I continued to eat out at restaurants as I had been doing for the past month, I would run out of Bells before I knew it. I would have to go shopping early tomorrow morning.

My body seemed to compress with a heavy sigh as I reached up to firmly rub my face with my paws. What was I going to do? The thought of holding myself responsible to keep myself alive tightened my stomach into knots with the worry of not being able to get far with what I had. The Bells that Mom and Dad had sent me off with were not going to last forever. In fact, they were probably going to start disappearing quickly from now on, maybe even faster than I could manage to earn more. At this point, my two options were finding a job immediately, even if I had to settle for something I wouldn't be satisfied with, or run out of necessities and begin to starve.

If the morning's events had shown me anything, it was how purely exhausted I was. Fatigue left me droopy and unenthusiastic, which was a noticeable change from my emotional state during most days, and I could tell that what I needed most was an extensive nap. I dropped my paws back to my sides, promptly dismissing myself from the kitchen and back into the hallway, but something caught my eye before I could reach my bedroom door.

The door in the wall of the hallway to my right was hanging ajar. It had been open when I first explored the house, but I had never taken much note of what I could see inside until now. It appeared to be the door to the living room, which was mostly empty except for a couch pushed against the back wall and a single round, narrow wooden table holding nothing but a black phone. My thoughts drifted back to Digby. I hadn't spoken to him for many weeks now. Ever since I arrived at the campsite back in the middle of May, I had no access to a phone until now. Even with my first glance towards the phone on the table, I could already tell what he would say if I called him. Since it had been so long since we last talked, surely he would expect that I had found work for myself by now. Maybe he would be disappointed in me to hear that I was still unemployed, dangerously close to running out of money. As this thought darted through my mind, I felt a stab of dread in my gut and nearly surrendered to the urge to let the time since our last conversation extend.

The longer I wait, the worse it will be, I reminded myself, forcing my feet forward step after step until I stood in front of the phone. I had managed to memorize the phone number to Happy Home since I had started using it so often, but as it had been a while, the digits were slowly falling out of memory. I removed the phone from the receiver and put it to my ear, punching in the numbers to the best of my memory and waited for an answer. The phone rang out a couple of times before an abrupt click implied that someone had finally answered it. I opened my mouth, ready to greet Lottie and ask her to pass the phone over, but for the first time, it was not Lottie who answered.

"Happy Home Designer. This is Digby," the voice on the other line spoke up once the phone was answered.

"Hey, Digby," I greeted him, hesitant with the concern of his disappointment clouding up my mind. "I didn't know you answered the calls directly."

"Oh, it's you," Digby realized, falling quiet for a few seconds as he tried to find something to say. He must have been feeling as awkward as I was trying to start a conversation after so long. "Good morning, Isabelle. Yes, I sometimes answer if I'm closest to the phone. It's been a long time since you last called."

"I know," I mumbled. "I'm sorry about that. I started staying at a different campsite about a month ago and had no access to a phone."

"It's okay. I understand," Digby told me. "When I stopped hearing from you, I kind of just accepted that we weren't going to speak for a while. I would have tried to reach you, but I wasn't quite sure where you were staying."

There had been an audible shift to his voice that I had picked up on as he spoke of my lack of communication. While he seemed to be mostly cheerful to be speaking with me, his voice had dropped to almost a murmur, almost like they were weighed down with a heavy topic. This would have been the best time to deliver the good news. Hopefully this would help his enthusiasm rise again.

"I'll be able to call more often from now on, actually," I pointed out. "I just moved into a proper house with a phone. That's how I'm calling you right now. I'll try to call a bit more regularly."

"That's great," Digby replied. The tension in his voice had eased just a little bit with this announcement, but not enough for me to be satisfied. "What about work? Have you found yourself a job yet?"

Darn it. I knew that was coming.

"No," I admitted with a pause, cringing as I waited for a reaction, but still Digby was patient.

"Really? Is there something that's holding you back?" he asked me.

"Not really," I replied. "I tried. I'm trying. It's just that nobody wants to hire me."

"What do you plan to do?" Digby inquired.

"I'm going to keep searching," I announced. "I'm going to find something eventually. It's better than just giving up entirely. I think the only outcome that would bring me home again after failing for so long is for a last resort."

In response to this statement, there was only a few seconds of silence. I realized the weight of my words a little too late, leaping at the opportunity to explain that I only meant it wasn't easy for me to give up once I put my mind to something, but before I could speak, Digby beat me to it.

"Okay," Digby said after a long pause. I couldn't read the emotion in his voice this time. "Well... Thank you for the update. I'm glad you decided to call. I'm going to get off the call for now, but there's something you should know before I do."

"What is it?" I muttered. It was no use going back to the explanation now, considering the topic had already been passed.

"You probably already know this, but I won't be near the phone at all times during the day and might not be around to answer if you call," Digby explained. "Please remember that most of the time, I'm going to be very busy over here. I appreciate your offer to call more, but I think it would be best for both of us if you don't call as frequently as you say."

My heart thudded dejectedly at the sound of this. The words sounded harsh when spoken aloud, but at least I understood where he was coming from.

"I see," I said.

"Good," Digby replied. "I'd still like to hear any future updates about your working situation, though. I'd like to help in any way I am available to."

"I'll let you know," I promised.

"Thank you," Digby said. "I should probably go now. I'll talk to you soon, okay?"

We exchanged our brief goodbyes, ending the conversation and each hanging up the phone. After I had set the phone down, only then did the fact occur to me how short the conversation had been. Usually, any conversation with Digby dragged on much longer than this one. If I didn't know better, I would have assumed that he was losing interest in speaking with me. For a moment, I could only stand with my paw resting over the phone, running through the conversation in my mind. Digby hadn't been ashamed of me, as I worried he would be, but he seemed to be providing me a little more of a push towards my goal. The truth was crystal clear now. I could no longer wait to find a job and therefore had to keep an eye open for every opportunity that I would come across.

These thoughts loomed over my mind like a dark storm cloud as I returned to my bedroom for rest. Wishing that once my eyes opened again my problems would have simply disappeared, I climbed into bed and drew the blankets over me as I snuggled comfortably into the mattress. My eyes fell shut with a familiar jab of anxiety in my stomach, but even as I drifted away into a heavy doze under the warm summer atmosphere, my mind was still awake, bright with thoughts of the day zipping in and out of my subconscious.

It was time to begin the second approach to my plan.

I emerged from the house no later than eight o'clock the next morning to get groceries. I had awakened at nearly seven-thirty, dressed out of my old outfit and into the elegant red dress I had bought the day before. I didn't eat any form of breakfast before I left, since I had no food in the house whatsoever and knew that I would be buying food while I was out. I scraped together a couple of bags of Bells, tossed them into my backpack, and departed for the grocery store without any issue.

I arrived at the store shortly after I had left the house and swiftly got to work scouting through the aisles for everything I would need. I dumped a wide variety of ingredients and pre-made meals into the basket I had retrieved at the start as well as a cookbook before moving on to explore the non-food sections. After selecting my meal options for the next coming week, I didn't leave the store without an alarm clock, a variety of pots and pans, and kits for a wooden desk and a bookshelf. As the sun was already climbing high into the light blue sky, I exited the store again with a heavily drooping backpack and not even half of a bag of Bells remaining.

After entering my house once again at almost nine o'clock, my first step was loading the meals I had bought into the fridge and freezer. I dropped my open backpack onto the table, distributing the frozen pre-made meals into the freezer and everything else below in the refrigerator. Only when all of the food had been stored away did I finally consider preparing something for myself for breakfast, deciding it best to find a simple meal in the cookbook I had purchased. I stood in front of the counter to prepare a meal, carefully flipping open the cookbook to see what I could find. From the table of contents at the very beginning, I could easily determine that there were five main chapters to be found throughout the book: Breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, and smaller snacks. For now, I would only need breakfast, so I proceeded to flick through the pages until I had located the start of the chapter.

The chapter, early on in the book as it was for the first meal of the day, began with a brief introduction in small text below an example picture of a large waffle drowned in maple syrup. This was going to be the first big meal I had ever prepared for myself, so it was best for me to start with something simple. Expecting to find the simpler dishes towards the beginning, I flipped to the next page to find an easy and quick recipe for scrambled eggs. All I needed was two eggs, a bowl, a fork, a generally large pan, a spatula, and salt if I chose to have it. I could do that.

I set the open cookbook on the counter, reaching up into the cupboard above to retrieve a small bowl. I took a bowl from the cupboard, putting it down onto the table before grabbing a few raw eggs from the refrigerator and returned to my workspace. Most likely, I would be meant to crack the eggs into the bowl, but how to do so, I wasn't quite sure. I carefully placed the eggs beside the bowl and peered over at the open cookbook again, reviewing the instructions for proper directions on how to crack an egg. Unfortunately, the instructions gave me nothing of that sort, simply stating to crack the eggs into the bowl before it moved on to the next step.

Well, that's great, I thought sarcastically, lifting my first egg before striking it against the rim of the bowl. The egg easily cracked in my paw, gooey liquid dripping down the side of the bowl before I jolted to position the liquid inside instead. The yolk plopped into the bowl, settling into the dip, but there was already a sticky mess running down to the counter. I ignored this, cracking the second egg into the bowl after the first one and accidentally flicking tiny bits of shell inside as well. I hastily put down the second shell on the counter with the first one, disregarding the stickiness pooling underneath them as I reached into the bowl. With attentive precision, I plucked each bit of shell out of the liquid before tossing them onto the counter as well and re-focusing on the instructions at hand. There would be no shells in my scrambled eggs today!

After removing the shells, I flicked my paws free of any stickiness and glanced into the bowl again. The two yolks were already starting to press against each other, but the liquid was not yellow as shown in the final product. I probably needed to do some kind of stirring to reach the right color. Luckily, the book had the answer for me when I confided in it yet again.

Whisk the eggs thoroughly with a fork. Whisk? Of course I knew what whisking was, but was it any different than just stirring? Submerging into uncertainty, I retrieved a fork from the silverware drawer and carefully took the egg bowl in one arm to hold it steady. Once the bowl was securely in position, I reached in with the fork and proceeded to stir the contents swiftly, eagerly waiting for distinct results. The yolks split immediately after the fork went into the liquid, surging outward to the edges of the bowl, but even after rapid stirring it was a discolored mix of orange and clear. I went on anyway, wrist pulsing with a slight dull ache from the consistent efforts, and within a minute the liquid had reached a watery yellow-orange color.

That was right, wasn't it? I double-checked the instructions on the page, searching for the next step, and found that it was time to heat the stove and pour the eggs over a pan. I put down the bowl on the counter and switched on the oven, cautiously setting it to the temperature as listed in the book, and reached up to open the cupboard beside the one where I had gotten the bowl. The largest pans had been pushed to the back of the cupboard, farther in reach but still available to touch at a stretch. I was sure that I would be needing a pan that was mostly flat—I had seen one in the example picture beside the plate of scrambled eggs—And so I grabbed a flat pan from the back of the cupboard as well as a spatula from the drawer at my hip before returning to work.

The stove was slowly climbing up in temperature, already close to the point where it needed to be. I set the empty pan on the stove and the spatula on the counter before grasping hold of the egg bowl again, lifting it delicately to pour it neatly. I poured the egg mix over the pan, hearing it sizzle slightly as it hit the surface, and let it flood the inside of the pan before withdrawing the bowl again. The egg yolk in the pan crackled faintly as I spared another glance at the cookbook, reading through the instructions another time before picking up the spatula for use. Per the instructions, I took the spatula and began to poke around the egg mix as it sizzled in the pan to start fluffing it up, anxiously waiting for something to happen.

After a while of jabbing the spatula at the eggs, still they refused to gather. Minute after minute my gaze flicked back to the open page in the cookbook, wondering what I was doing wrong as a worried tightness slowly rose in my chest. The book carried no warnings or estimates of how long the eggs would take to cook, so I proceeded to prod the eggs around until some noticeable changes began to emerge. Much to my comfort, the eggs had begun to clump together several minutes after I had put them in the pan. Within ten minutes, I had managed to form a decent set of scrambled eggs in front of me, gradually becoming closer to what the picture had made them out to be. I was checking the book more and more frequently now, impatiently waiting for the right moment to take the eggs out of the pan, before finally flicking the oven off once they had thoroughly clumped together.

The scrambled eggs were lumpy and messy, but that was okay. I grabbed a large plate from the same cupboard where I had gotten the bowl and peeled the eggs from the pan with the spatula. I dumped the eggs onto the plate, preparing for my meal, before retrieving another fork to help me eat and abandoning the spatula on the counter as I headed for the table across the room. I could clean up once I finished eating. I put down my plate of food at my spot at the table, plopping into a chair and settling into my seat as I raised my fork for use. My stomach was already omitting a faint whine of hunger as I stabbed the eggs with my fork without hesitation, and proceeded into my first self-made meal.

It was less than ideal, but at least it was something. The eggs were bland with hardly a taste and obviously droopy, much unlike the light and fluffy ones my parents used to make. I continued to work through the meal anyway, forcing down bite after bite with no resistance as my thoughts wandered in the solitude of the room, but nearly halfway through I discovered that I couldn't enjoy the food as well as I had hoped.

Occasionally as I ate, my thoughts drifted back to the money I had spent to have the food at all. I didn't even need to glance at my current collection of Bells to be aware that today alone had left a sizable dent in the number. I didn't have the faintest idea where I was going to end up in as little as a week. The idea of that alone sent a sickening clench to my stomach, causing my appetite to gradually slip away from me like salt in water. Once the uncertainty of the future was acknowledged, I could only worry how long I was going to survive this way.

I choked down the remainder of my meal and nudged the plate away on the table, setting my head down on my arms on the table. My lack of appetite was slowly evolving into nausea, jabbing at my gut with unease like sharpened nails. I desperately needed a change in my life before disaster could strike, that much was clear from here. I didn't even want to think about the alternative.

I can't go on in this way anymore, I thought worriedly, straining to try and dwindle the uncomfortable swim in my stomach.

If there was one thing I knew from the situation, it was that letting the thought conquer my mind for too long would only do more harm, especially at the point I was at now. I would need to do something to distract myself for the present moment and find a way to clear my head. A peaceful walk was always good for that, easily gaining a sense of perspective after returning to nature. In fact, I had even spotted a garden on the trail to the grocery store earlier this morning with trees sporting sun-dipped bright green leaves. I could have been there and back in half an hour.

I still struggled to loosen the knots in my stomach as I tossed my dirty dish into the sink to wash with my return, clearing out from the house as soon as the opportunity was presented after the street had been emptied. It had been at least a few weeks since I had some decent interaction and now the thought of stumbling over my words or failing to figure out how to successfully carry out a conversation set a sort of pre-embarrassment into motion, clicking in the depths of my chest and drawing me into isolation instead. I had done a good job of avoiding any interaction since I had arrived at the campground back in May.

Since I had no key to lock the house with, I yanked the door shut after me as I stepped out into the throbbing warmth of the summer day and called it a done job. Thanks to the precise timing of my departure, the street was completely deserted, leaving a peaceful and less risky path ahead of me. It was still inching through the awkward period of time before breakfast and lunch, so there would be hardly any animals wandering through the streets until it got closer to noon.

There was something ominous about the utter silence in the air as I strolled along the path, but I settled my anxiety from this thought by assuring myself that I simply wasn't used to being so alone. There was hardly even any wind, just a faint puff of air sweeping across the street now and then. Each step down the walkway forged a deeper wander into my imagination, eyes drifting to observe my curious and abandoned surroundings, which led me to stumble across a peculiar discovery shortly into the walk.

My eyes had been running aimlessly across the ground at my feet before I spotted it. There was an indentation in the dirt near the corner of a house a few doors down from my own and while it appeared to be almost a few inches deep, implying that something had caused it recently, there wasn't anything close by that seemed to have made it. After a brief pause of closer inspection, I was able to guess that it had been caused by the rolling of a small wheel, perhaps from a cart or another small vehicle, yet nothing of the sort was anywhere in sight.

It was definitely odd, but not something to waste my time on. This thought hardly lasted a minute more as I carried on in my walk, leading myself back along the path I had taken earlier this morning to the store, and reached the garden in no longer than ten minutes. A gentle breeze had arisen by the time I arrived, rustling in the sea of vivid green leaves and beckoning me into the collection of thick trees. Radiant Trail, it was called, as stated by a wooden sign propped up from the ground at the start of the garden.

Well, it surely lived up to its name. An extensive patch of sunlight stretched widely over the short grass between the trees, slinking through the leaves above and lighting the path before me. For a moment, it seemed like I had been completely removed from society to be there right then, a place where everything around me was irrelevant and it was just me alone in the town, the world, the universe. I was entirely absorbed in this sensation for the first few minutes of my visit, my previous stress slowly melting away into a sort of warm comfort in my gut, but the feeling flopped and died once I eventually remembered why I was there in the first place.

This was not a visit for fun. I had work to do, a plan to think through. Before long, I had managed to locate a bench between the array of trees, right in the middle of everything there was to see, and claimed a seat. As the thoughts that I had tried to leave behind at the house began to flood my mind again, the delight that I had felt at the start of my visit was shriveling into void, turning cold and hollow in the pit of my stomach. I couldn't spend any more time avoiding the problems that would soon tear me down with lack of action. What I needed most was a sturdy plan that I could stick to.

I asked myself what the most logical step to take would be in a situation such as the one I had trapped myself in, but once I revisited the question that still haunted me to this moment, I could only draw a blank. I couldn't just ask for the money I was missing, and it wasn't like the opportunity to work was just going to fall into my lap. There wasn't even an option left to seek Digby's help, since he already had such high expectations of me and we still weren't exactly on the best terms after our last call. I knew how to search for jobs, as I had done it before, but if it were to continue as it had before I left for this island, then I would only be faced with more failure.

Darn it, why couldn't I have just this one thing in my life make sense? When was I going to stop feeling like a child in the wrong place, a place that was much too big for me, and start feeling like an adult that knew what she was doing?

Suppressing the thought of my heavy responsibility, I pushed myself up from the bench with a deep sigh, continuing on my way along the path to try and clear my head once again. Unlike before, the air almost seemed to gather a sort of chill among the stale, baking breeze of midday in a way I couldn't quite explain, like everything around me was hot while my body transformed into an unsettled block of ice. The insides of my stomach twisted, leaving me with a quivering heart as I wandered over the grass, and I raised my head to search the trees to keep myself calm.

The leaves above me fluttered restlessly in the breeze, almost like they were waving hello. As this thought flickered to attention, I couldn't help but allow myself a small smile at the idea of it. A few seconds of observation of the branches hanging over me earned me the glance of a split second of red before the leaves covered the sight again. I blinked, trying to figure out what I had seen before craning for a second look at what the tree held over me. Once the leaves flicked themselves out of the way again, I was able to spot an apple among the green of the tree and then spotted more with a longer inspection. It was an apple tree. This must have been a fruit garden!

Since I had discovered it with such surprise, it almost felt like it was a generous gift from the tree, but perhaps my mind was just trained to think in such a way for various reasons. Giving fruit was acknowledged as a gesture of appreciation and kindness in my family, which explained the fact why a basket of fruit appeared on the breakfast table every morning. My parents had always wanted Digby and me to remember how loved we were with every passing day. I could still recall their happy faces even now, flashes of images and revolving motions of the past behind my eyes. They were all so far away from me now and, in a way, also right beside me. I still struggled to process that I hadn't been in their presence since the turn from winter to spring. It had been way back in February that I had left home, which would have made it four months since my journey began.

My feet came to an abrupt stop like I had just run head-first into a wall. Four months? A third of a year? Had I really been searching for work for that long? It was no wonder Digby was so disappointed in me! With the time that I had already spent away, it was impossible to tell how much longer this could last. How much longer would I have to put myself through this, so far away from everything and everyone I had ever loved?

It was at that moment that I made the decision that I did not want to stay in the garden anymore, that I needed to find comfort in the house I called my own. A quickened pace in a brisk walk brought me back through the path I had ventured upon my entrance, walking out of the garden and back onto the street that would take me home. It was no later than ten o'clock in the morning, which made it no mystery that the streets were still deserted, but my thoughts clung to my upcoming destination as I strode along the path.

For a few minutes during my return, the only sound to greet my ears was the sound of my shoes tapping against the brick road as I passed the doors leading back to mine, but once again, my thoughts were elsewhere. At the moment, the only thing I focused on was getting home. Maybe once I was there, I could try calling Digby again to confess the intimidating realization that had come upon me. But worrying about my problems so early on before they really took flight was clearly showing itself unhealthy, so what I would do was reach the house, call Digby if I chose to, make sure to take care of myself, and that was it.

A sudden glimpse of orange fur as I stepped out into the break between two houses sent me leaping back behind the wall and out of sight again. Someone was there. Why was someone there? I thought the streets were meant to be empty around this time. For a beat, I lingered behind the wall where I had surrendered to a hiding place from the new and unexpected animal, processing what I had noticed and unsure whether to approach or just keep moving, before I let my curiosity get the best of me and peered around the corner. There was an animal off to the side of the road, standing between the two houses. One of the first things that I was able to catch sight of was that he hadn't realized my presence yet, since his back was to me as he arranged the display on a cart that hadn't been there before. He was an animal that I had never once crossed paths with until now—One with a dark blue apron tied around his waist, vivid orange fur, a fluffy tail and pointed ears. A kitsune. But what was he doing there?

The alarms of suspicion were already flashing through my mind at such an odd sight, but I had to know more. I emerged from my hiding place at last, drifting closer to the kitsune at work and trying to peer around him to see the display he was organizing. From where I stood, I was able to spy a variety of paintings and sculptures set up along the cart, but I wasn't yet at a decent angle to observe them thoroughly. The knowledge of how to successfully sustain a conversation was still something I lacked to this present moment, but as I was already a few yards behind the kitsune and would bring attention to myself if I tried to escape, I saw no other option but to speak.

"Hello," I said hesitantly, skeptical of the fact that making conversation was the best thing to do.

Expectedly, the kitsune seemed to hear my voice as soon as I spoke, promptly turning around to face and address me and revealing the large logo of a ginkgo leaf on his apron. The moment he laid eyes on me, a mischievous smirk grew on his face at the sight of me.

"Oh, hello there!" he greeted me enthusiastically. "You scared me a little, popping out of nowhere like that. Where did you come from?"

"Oh, um..." I stammered through an answer, struggling to grasp the best words to respond with.

Based on the smile on his face and the lighthearted tone he spoke with, I could tell that explaining I had been spying on him was only going to provoke a reason to tease me. Plus, discomfort was already sending painful jabs to my stomach at the way I was being treated by a complete stranger. The way he was looking at me with his first glance was not the most settling.

"Nearby," I decided eventually. "I'm sorry that I scared you."

"Nah, don't worry about that," the kitsune assured me dismissively before allowing another teasing grin slip into sight and shifting the subject. "Can I interest you in any of my sales? Do my low, low prices for priceless one-of-a-kind artwork intrigue you? We've got a special deal on them just for today. What do you think?"

I wasn't carrying any Bells on me to be able to accept this offer in the first place, but I still took a moment to glance past the kitsune at the cart before I could jump into an answer. As I was a bit closer now, I was able to observe a display of paintings and sculptures set up across the surface of the cart, some of which I was not familiar with but some that sparked a flicker of remembrance in my immediate thoughts. A few of the paintings I could examine behind the kitsune were, in fact, very commonly known even by first glance, and although I could not recall the titles right at the moment, it was clear that they were among the most valuable pieces of art in my knowledge. However, I didn't linger on this thought for long before tearing my gaze away to answer the question that the kitsune had left hanging in the air.

"Well... It sounds great, but I didn't plan on making any purchases," I confessed reluctantly, still stumbling over the realization I had come across as I forced an apologetic smile onto my face. With any luck, maybe a smile would make up for the fact that I had no clue how to deal with the situation. "I hoped that I could come and get to know you. I saw you setting up your display and it made me curious."

Something about this statement seemed to provoke some kind of amusement in response, which I could see in the playful smirk that crossed the kitsune's face once again.

"Oh, get to know me?" He repeated, the inevitable teasing tone weighing over his voice. "In that case, maybe you'd like me to consider hiring you as my assistant? I've got room for another. What do you say?"

Oh. The offer struck me like a slap in the face, snatching the words from my mouth. It was the very first job offer since Lottie's, which was shocking news, but for some reason, the words of acceptance that would have leaped to my tongue so easily on any other occasion refused to come up. After the sight of what was available for sale and the overly friendly strategy of conversation the kitsune was using to gain my purchase, I wasn't completely sure that I trusted the offer. I drew away from the idea of declining straight away with the uncertainty of the kitsune's reaction, so my best bet would be avoiding the question entirely.

"Well, that was... sudden," I stuttered, attempting to keep my voice level and optimistic as I withdrew from the topic of work to return to more basic conversation. "So, what do you like to do for fun, when you're not working?"

"I'm working pretty much all the time," the kitsune explained with a slight shrug. "It's kinda, like, my thing and all, since I'm such a hard worker."

"Really? That must be difficult to manage, isn't it?" I asked. I could hardly even imagine the idea of working so much, but perhaps that was only because I had never worked a proper job before.

"It's not that bad. It's nothing I can't handle," the kitsune replied indifferently, revealing another amused yet cheerful smile to support his statement.

This easily brought me to the observation that each smile must have been easy for him to do so often, even in awkward conversations like this. With all the smiling and consistent lack of judgment at my poor social skills, the tension in my gut was gradually easing again into relaxation, and therefore I was beginning to be drawn to appreciate the kitsune's presence. When I smiled in return, it was finally a genuine smile.

"Well, I'm glad that you're able to handle it. It seems like a lot of work," I remarked, gradually falling into a natural pattern of conversation. Something about the energy I was receiving from it was putting me at ease.

"Oh, it is," the kitsune agreed. "But like I said, nothing I can't handle. I'm good like that."

"What inspires you to work so hard?" I inquired curiously. I expected an answer in a deep explanation exploring the kitsune's passions, possibly while being able to gain inspiration for myself, but the abrupt answer was not one I had anticipated.

"Money, mostly," the kitsune replied with hardly a thought to consider this. "And fame, too. Can't forget fame."

I couldn't truthfully say that I shared in this answer, but I also couldn't say that I was particularly surprised by it.

"Well, I suppose that's understandable," I said instead.

"I'm glad you think so. It would be hopeless trying to explain it to you if it wasn't," the kitsune answered, offering a lighthearted laugh that easily brought a smile to my face.

"I guess it would," I agreed, causing the bells on my ponytail to jingle faintly as I nodded my head. "I'm glad we can connect so easily."

"Connection's always a good thing, especially in the business world," the kitsune responded, maintaining a cheerful tone as he so casually returned the conversation to the very topic I had been doing so well to shy away from. "Speaking of which, I hope you'll consider my offer of work. I could really use someone like you on my team."

It was the same request again. The kitsune must have seen right through my strategy and was once again putting me on the spot for a direct answer. It was going to be more difficult than I thought trying to escape that option. I couldn't make the choice to change the subject a second time. He would know it instantly.

"Well... I'm flattered, but I'll have to give it some thought," I decided. At least now, I was addressing the topic at hand while searching for the least straightforward way to decline. Hopefully that would be my way out. Fortunately, the kitsune still didn't press the matter.

"I look forward to hearing from you about your decision, then," he said. "I'll be waiting."

"Will you be around here often?" I asked him.

"Perhaps," the kitsune gave a vague answer that didn't seem like the strongest answer I was hoping for. "Perhaps not. I move around a lot. Here, let me give you my phone number so you can reach me or my employee if I'm not around."

"Okay!" I replied brightly, but the kitsune was already turning away back to the cart behind him and didn't acknowledge my reply. I watched him as he withdrew a drawer in the cart and dug through it for a few seconds before removing a small notepad and a pencil. Briefly, he scribbled the number onto the notepad with the pencil before tearing out the page and glancing back at me to hold it out for me to take.

"Thank you," I said, carefully accepting the square of paper from his reach.

"Yeah, I hope you consider my offer!" the kitsune replied, offering another confident smirk. "In the meantime, have you changed your mind at all about purchasing from me today? I have a wide selection for you here if you want to look through it."

He was most certainly persistent, though it wasn't necessarily a bad thing to be. In fact, I found it rather fascinating, since he managed to always keep me entertained like it was no effort at all. If I couldn't make a purchase, the least I could do was stay a minute longer and see what he had to sell.

"I don't think I'll be buying anything, but I will take a look," I said.

"Of course, of course!" the kitsune responded, swiftly stepping out of the way of my view of the contents on the cart, but still stood at the side to keep an eye on me. "I wouldn't be surprised if you change your mind once you see some of the things I'm offering."

"I'll see," I promised, averting my gaze back to the cart in front of me.

While I couldn't deny that I was intrigued simply by the kitsune himself, I still wasn't quite sure what to make of the options he was selling. The whole situation was still a bit puzzling to me, but I tried not to let that bother me as I continued to examine the display. Even though I wasn't meant to buy anything, it did actually look very neat and inviting, leaving me open to the possibility of making some kind of purchase later on. But how was everything here in his possession?

"So, what do you think?" the kitsune prompted in hardly a minute after I had begun to observe the display, pulling my attention back. "See anything you like?"

"Well, I think it's incredible that you're selling all of this, but once again, I didn't count on making any purchases," I reminded him respectfully.

"Well, that's a bummer," the kitsune replied, though still didn't lose his upbeat tone. "Let me know if you change your mind!"

"I will definitely do that," I agreed. As the conversation dragged on, a thought was starting to crawl back into my head that I should have been getting home soon and it was best if I excused myself as soon as I got the opportunity to. "I think this is all great, but I'm going to pass on making any purchases."

"That's too bad. Next time, then," the kitsune suggested.

"Maybe!" I replied, lifting an optimistic smile to my face, which the kitsune easily sent back. "I'm always open to new possibilities."

"That's always a good thing to hear," the kitsune agreed.

"I think I should be getting home now, but I'm glad I got to speak with you. It always feels nice to find some new friends," I remarked.

"Sure does," the kitsune answered brightly. "Give me a call if you decide to work for me, cool?"

"Absolutely!" I said. "I'll see you later."

"Great. Sounds good to me," the kitsune replied.

With a final brief smile of farewell, I finally dismissed myself back down the street, starting off towards my house once again. As I shuffled across the brick path to reach my door at the end of the row, the conversation that had passed and the unexpected turn of events still tingled freshly in my thoughts with every step of the way. Even though there had hardly been a few minutes at most since my short occurrence of tense anxiety, I was already completely at ease, the knots in my stomach having already loosened.

Maybe things were starting to fall into place at last. After all, with the foundations of a plan, clear possibilities for the future, and a brand new friend who would be there to support me, what was there to stress about?

The morning's events shot back and forth through my thoughts for the remainder of the day, carrying me into the afternoon even though the interaction was long gone. It was as if my mind was still toying with the idea of new friendship for hours after the mutual agreement was set into place, entertaining the thought with the vast possibilities that lay before us. Once or twice I wondered to myself whether this was indeed a sign of good things to come. Maybe this was where everything would start to improve.

While my mind was still trying to wrap around the idea of my first new friendship in months, the familiar face of the kitsune came and went through my mind with the passing hours. Everything had happened so abruptly that I was still undecided what to think of him, but at the same time, there was no doubt that I enjoyed his presence. I had felt a bit suspicious of him when we had first crossed paths, but maybe I had judged him too quickly. He was simply a dedicated worker that knew how to be confidently welcoming and with no reason to distrust him, therefore I was drawn to our connection instead.

As far as I could tell, this friendship was everything I had needed. Besides the obvious, what I had longed for most was someone to be there and support me, and there he was. He had done so much more for me that he even knew about with simply gladly agreeing to our friendship, so I wanted to do something for him to show my appreciation. However, what I thought was best was a question I wrestled with throughout the remaining hours of the afternoon.

To further set my thoughts into motion to help me come up with a plan, I kept my paws as busy as my mind. The afternoon gradually bled into evening as I worked to set up the bookshelf and desk I had bought from the store this morning, positioning them against opposite walls of my bedroom. Progress was painfully slow and wasn't finished any earlier by seven thirty in the evening, but at the very least, it gave me quite some time to think. In fact, once everything was set up and in the places they were meant to be, I had managed to grasp an idea.

If my family had always given fruit as a gesture of gratitude, then maybe I should do the same. If I awoke at ten the next morning, that should provide me with plenty of time before lunch to pick some fruit and bring it to the kitsune, given that he would still be in the same place with his cart at that time. As soon as my new furniture was completely built, I set my alarm clock to wake me at ten in the morning and finally went to bed within the next few hours.

My bedroom was already bathed in soft rays of sunlight by the time my chiming alarm clock ripped me from sleep. I raised my head from my pillow, eyes heavy and body droopy with lingering sleepiness as I listened to the alarm beeping me awake, lacking the inclination to move to turn it off. After my hard work from yesterday evening, exhaustion left a substantial weight on my being and I most certainly didn't want to get up so soon. After a few reluctant seconds, I forced myself to roll over and reach for the alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed, fumbling to turn it off before settling under the blankets again. It wasn't like I lived with any other animal to come to my room and tell me to get out of bed. What was stopping me from sleeping in a few extra hours?

Before I had the chance to fall back asleep, a reminder tumbled back into my head that flung my eyes open. I could sleep in on any other day, but not today. I was supposed to head back to the garden today to pick fruit for the friendly kitsune I had met the day before. If I slept in a few more hours, he might not have still been in the same place as I had seen him earlier and I might not be able to see him again today. Despite my craving for at least a couple more minutes to doze, I dragged myself out of bed and to the closet to change out of the dress I had worn to bed, since I owned no pajamas as of late. I pulled the red dress over my head and slipped into the other one, smoothing it down and double checking that I looked decently presentable before bringing myself out of the bedroom to prepare some brunch.

I made myself a quick and easy brunch of pancakes, accidentally letting them sit for too long on the stove and burning them as it was the first time I had tried the meal but choked them down anyway. The meal only lasted about five minutes at most, as I made sure to eat in a more rushed manner to save time, and it sat heavily but comfortably in my stomach as I stole a trip back to the storage room to grab the basket I had received from my first campsite. I left the house with nothing but an empty basket in my arms, setting off on my brief journey back along the street to the garden. The kitsune had not yet arrived with his cart as I passed by his usual place, though I was confident that he would have been there when I returned. I hardly spent a thought on this, continuing on my way until I reached the garden once more.

As I was soon able to discover, some of the fruits in the trees hung lower to the ground and some were far too high for my reach. In addition to this, some of the fruits that were available for my grab were not of the best condition—Several were clearly not yet ripe and a few had become too ripe and even rotten. I wandered casually through the trees, snagging the best looking fruits that were within my reach and only deciding the task finished when the basket was loaded with a variety of different fruits.

By the time I was ready to leave the garden again, the basket seemed like it weighed a couple tons, causing an ache to creep through my arms as I carried it for so long and shifted uncomfortably against my belly as I shuffled back down the street I had walked down earlier. I had so easily lost my grasp of time picking fruits in the garden that it must have been at least an hour since I'd been home, so the bright sun was gradually climbing higher into the cloudless blue sky.

Exactly as I had hoped, the kitsune appeared to have already arrived as I was returning down the road with my basket of fruit. He stood in front of his cart between the same two houses where I had spotted him yesterday, but he was faced away as I approached to dig through the drawer for something I could not tell.

"Good morning," I spoke up cheerfully as I neared the cart. Instantly catching the sound of my voice in the silence of the street, the kitsune abandoned the open drawer to turn and glance back at me. "I'm glad I could find you again."

"Oh, hello there!" the kitsune greeted me warmly, evidently as happy to see me as he had been the previous day. "Good to see you!"

"You too!" I replied, coming to a stop a few feet from the cart and quickly finding myself with a beaming smile locked over my face from the new company. "How has your day been?"

"It's been all right. I've had some pretty good sales today," the kitsune told me, confidently flashing a smile in return at the topic of his success. "And you?"

"I've been great," I said. Truthfully, I was already feeling noticeably more relaxed and joyful since my unpleasant situation yesterday. "I'm glad to hear you're doing well."

"It's good to hear you have, too," the kitsune replied.

"Thanks!" I said brightly in response, but my attention was already being pulled away as I shifted my arms around the basket to carefully hold it out to the kitsune. "I brought this for you!"

"Oh, for me?" the kitsune echoed, evidently surprised by this offer, and reached out to gently take the basket from my paws. After the basket was handed over, the weight that had been removed as well sent a relief from the strain sinking into my arms. "Well, this was unexpected! What's this for?"

"In my family, giving fruit is a gesture of appreciation," I explained as he tore his gaze away from mine to begin examining the fruit piled up in the basket in his arms. "I got up early this morning to go and pick some for you before I came to visit. I want to show you my gratitude for our new friendship."

"Wow, thanks!" the kitsune exclaimed, raising his head to present an enthusiastic grin. "That's so nice of you, this looks great. I am supposed to eat these, right?"

"Yes, they're for eating," I said, unable to hold back a smile at his interest in the gift.

"Good. I can't wait to eat these," the kitsune remarked, turning to set down the basket onto the limited space on the cart near the edge and adding distractedly, "I was just about to eat some lunch when you came over, is it okay if I do that now?"

"Sure, that's fine!" I replied. "Can I take a seat next to your cart?"

"Yeah, go right ahead," the kitsune told me, glancing back at me to give another cheerful smile. "The company'll be nice."

"Then I'm happy to stay!" I said, stepping to plop down into a cross-legged seat on the ground next to the end of the cart.

For a moment after I had settled into a seat on the ground, the kitsune's focus lingered on me before he reached for the basket and picked up a peach from inside. Shifting to glance out over the street again, the kitsune took the first bite of the peach in silence, seeming to almost forget my presence in a matter of moments, but I watched him. I didn't quite have anything to say right then, but I just observed him for a moment. It was only then that the thought occurred to me that I couldn't even tell how old he was. He was younger than thirty for sure and definitely a young adult older than I was, possibly seven or eight years older, but beyond that I could determine nothing. Though I could only see part of his bright orange face from where I was sitting beside the cart, I studied it without a word: a face of an unclear age... and an unclear title.

"I don't think you ever told me your name," I realized, and the kitsune's gaze bounced to meet mine.

"Oh, right," the kitsune agreed. "The name's Redd. You?"

"I'm Isabelle," I introduced myself.

"Isabelle!" the kitsune, evidently called Redd, repeated in acknowledgment. "I like that name. It suits you."

"Does it?" I inquired, genuinely curious about this statement. That must have been the first time anyone had said such a thing!

"Yeah, totally!" Redd replied cheerfully.

"That's very nice of you to say," I gushed, pleasantly surprised by the unexpected compliment. "Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," Redd said in response, but he was already turning his focus back to the peach in his paw and casually taking another bite.

As the quietness grew between us once again, I found my mind wandering to find another topic of conversation. Finding something to talk about was never a strong skill of mine, but I would have rather put something out there half-heartedly than to surrender to the awkwardness in silence. It was no use trying to make small talk by bringing up the weather, since its only defining qualities at the moment were being hot and humid, so I reflected on my recent experiences to find relatability.

I could easily recall officially moving into my new home just two days ago, as it was most definitely the most consequential event in the past few days, but with that thought came the reminder of the problems that spiraled out from it. The concerns of rapidly losing Bells and having to learn how to take care of myself as soon as possible instantly began to pile up on my mind again, causing a rising unease to begin clawing through my gut again, so I drew a deep breath and tried to divert my path of thinking.

"I think I'm really starting to settle in to this little town," I pointed out, withdrawing in my thoughts to step away and see the positive in the situation as I glanced up at Redd to address him.

"That's nice," Redd replied, evidently focused more on his meal than me as he took another bite of his peach without glancing over.

"I've been here for quite a while. I just moved into a house over here yesterday after living in the public campsite," I admitted as he distractedly continued to eat. After a moment, a thought slipped into my mind that flicked my gaze up to land inquiringly on him. "Do you come here often?"

"Not really," Redd told me. "This is the first time I've been here for a while now."

"Oh. That might explain why I didn't see you at all before I properly met you," I acknowledged.

"Yeah, that makes sense," Redd agreed.

"But I'm glad that I eventually did," I went on, raising my head to smile up at him as he finally shifted in his stance in front of the cart to look at me. When he noticed me smiling at him, Redd offered a bright smile in return.

"Well, that's nice of you to say," he remarked.

We each shared a cheerful smile for a moment before the conversation between us seemed to trickle away again and the restricted focus loosened. Even as Redd turned away again to continue working through the peach in his paw, the pleasant tone of the conversation seemed to linger, leaving its residue on my emotions and plastering an unfaltering smile onto my face. I could feel the bond growing and strengthening between us already and I found that I was becoming very calm and at ease in his presence. There was a comforting vibe that radiated from it that I couldn't quite describe—It was as if my spirit needed him in some way to feel fully complete, not in any romantic way in the slightest but just the longing for and the awe of the consistency of his collectedness in such simple situations while I second-guessed myself. This thought led me to appreciate his company even deeper, so I grew rather fond of our friendship.

And that was how the morning went. I sat beside the cart with the passing minutes and chatted lightheartedly with Redd as he stood to wait for customers and worked through the fruit in the basket while the day crept further. The sun gradually climbed higher and higher into the sky as the afternoon snuck up on us and once it was way up high in the endless sea of blue and beaming brightly down on the street with different animals coming and going every so often, it was time for me to head home. It had been quite a few hours since I had eaten breakfast, so by the time I was wrapping up the visit and extending my temporary goodbyes, my stomach felt hollow and rumbled for food. After spending a couple of hours at the cart with Redd, I set off to return to my house, uplifted by the time we had spent together and ready to continue what was left of the day.

"I don't know how many times I'm going to have to tell you this, Isabelle. I understand that you mean well, I really do, I'm just a little busier than you may imagine. I would appreciate it if you would remember what we talked about yesterday about how frequently I'll be able to talk to you and take that into consideration," Digby reminded me, holding his tone at a patient level as he spoke, but I could still hear the mild frustration he tried to hide slinking into his voice anyway.

Shortly after I had arrived at home from the visit with Redd, perky and upbeat from the time we had spent together, I had made the decision to give Digby a call at Happy Home to deliver the good news of our new friendship. Once Digby had been aware that it was me on the phone, the hope of sharing this news quickly withered away as he went on to scold me about calling him while he was working. So far, I hadn't heard the end of it.

"I know," I mumbled, aching for him to stop lecturing me after he had done so for a firm three minutes as I tiredly rubbed my face with my free paw and stood beside the small table to speak into the phone.

"Good, I'm glad you do," Digby replied, calmly yet abruptly. "I'd just like you to remember it now, please. If I have to keep taking time away from my work like this, I'm going to get in trouble."

"I'm not trying to get you in trouble," I complained. "I just had some things I wanted to talk about with you. I don't think Lottie is going to get angry at you if you're only away for a little bit."

"Well, I'm trying not to push it," Digby told me. "I think I have a little bit of time to talk today, but I can't determine how often it will be that way in the future."

"I understand," I said.

"Good," Digby said again. "Now, you said you had something you wanted to tell me, right?"

"Oh. Yeah," I replied, stumbling over my words slightly at the direct prompt. I had already somewhat suspected him to forget that I had news for him, since he seemed to be more focused on the fact that I had disrupted his work.

"What is it?" Digby inquired. At least he seemed genuinely interested to hear what I had to say instead of clinging to my mistakes.

"I was walking around the town yesterday and I actually managed to make a new friend while I was out. I really think we have a good connection. His name—" I began, but my words were cut short as Digby proceeded to talk over me.

"Isabelle," Digby pressed gently. "That's all great and I'm happy for you to make friends while you're away, but what about work? Do you have any updates about work?"

"Work?" I repeated.

"Yes. Have you managed to find any sort of work at all?" Digby asked.

"Not yet," I admitted hesitantly, my memories involuntarily flicking back to Redd's job offer from yesterday as I spoke. "I'm still working on it, though."

For a few seconds, there was silence as if Digby was still figuring out how to respond to this.

"Well, what do you need from me to be able to support you?" he inquired after a pause.

"I don't think there's really much you can do from so far away. I might just need to keep searching," I explained, shifting in my stance to keep from standing in the same place for too long. It appeared as though I had been leaning on my left foot a bit too much, causing a dull ache to shoot up my hip when I removed myself from it.

"If that's what you think is best for you, then go ahead. But you can't allow yourself to get too distracted from what you're trying to find," Digby pointed out. "Distractions will do nothing for you but waste your time. I'm worried that you're letting yourself get distracted from the problem at hand."

I opened my mouth to protest, but the words instantly shrunk from it once a thought dawned on me. Months ago when Katie had offered to try and find work for me, I had withdrawn from my own search to let her do so. Even during the past month alone, I had prioritized settling into the campsite first and then my house before I would pick up where I left off, but my waiting period had already dragged on longer than a month now. Maybe I really had gotten myself distracted.

"I'm not trying to be harsh with you, and I'm sorry if it seems like I am," Digby went on when I couldn't find the words to answer. "I just want you to remember that the main reason you left home in the first place was to try and find some kind of work for yourself. Do you remember how long it has been since you left?"

"Yeah," I mumbled. And it wasn't something I really enjoyed thinking about.

"I think if it's been this long and you still haven't gotten any results, you might need a little bit of help moving forward," Digby explained. "There's nothing wrong with that. I'm just saying that if nobody else is going to give you that push, then I will. I understand that you're trying and this isn't an easy thing to do, but you need to use your time wisely."

"I will," I promised. Something about Digby's words was setting a whir of emotion within me, a firm motivation that had begun to spiral through me as it slowly grew with energy and fire. I was not going to let him down a second time.

"Good," Digby said. "I'm going to leave the call so that you can get started. Please remember what I said about contacting me during work hours. Other than that, don't forget what you left home to do and don't get distracted again. Good luck, Isabelle. I'm counting on you."

It was as if my eyes had been pried open to the world, awakening my mind to the path I must take. The words and messages exchanged in the past two conversations with Digby continued to whirl through my mind for hours after they had left me, spinning a solid plan into effect. After days and days of anticipation, the second phase of my strategy to find work was slowly rolling back into motion and I was ready for it.

While both conversations were left in the past, the impact of them lived on. I had most definitely taken a stumble in my plan before now, but it was like I had found my balance once again and was climbing to my feet to go on walking. After both of the conversations, the impulse to re-immerse myself back into the thrill and anticipation of the search was fueled into motion, writhing to be free like gasoline had just been poured over the flames of passion in my soul. If I was going to start again, this time I would do it right. I had the motivation, that much was clear, and yet there was still one problem. My options for employment to choose from had not yet been grasped, leaving me completely in the dark for anything I could even try to pursue. Sure, I still had Redd's offer of employment that I had neither accepted nor declined yet, but I was still shying away from that idea as I was still undecided on what it could mean for me. Despite this, the situation wasn't entirely hopeless. I might not have known what to do, but I did have an inkling of where to find out.

The main square in the middle of the town could very well have held the answers I was seeking. The square was a large, empty slab of brick road a couple minutes' walk from my house with nothing but a towering pine tree in the center pointed up towards the sky, a considerable amount of empty space to gather in and walk through, and a discussion board made of cork along the side of the road. I had wandered past the discussion board a few times before I had been invited to stay in the town, even spending a brief pause to skim through the little notecards pinned there with tiny, colorful pins. As far as I could tell, it was a space to pose questions or offer feedback about the general area, and an answer would soon appear in a second notecard below it in as little as a couple of days. If I included my inquiries about finding a job, my answer would be within my reach in hardly any time at all.

And just like that, I already relied heavily on this plan, as it was the only one I had. I set off from my house the very next morning just after the sun had fully crept into sight over the horizon, shuffling along the road under a soft blue sky and a puff of warm air to make my way to the square. The space was empty when I arrived, which I had expected due to the early hour, and the corkboard had been cleared of notecards as I approached. My question would be the first of the day.

After making my stop, from there I took a pencil from the utensil holder clinging to the side of the board and scribbled my question onto a notecard provided from a stack on a table at my hip. I briefly explained my situation of extensive unemployment in a single sentence before dropping the question of where I could find work around the area. Lastly, I left the note anonymous and disregarded the addition of my name at the end to pin the card up onto the board as far as my reach allowed. If Redd somehow came across my question and found out that I was hunting for work after avoiding his offer, I could already tell that the next time we crossed paths wouldn't have been very pretty.

Then I waited. Jumping back into the plan so quickly with a significant lack of answers was too much of a risk for running my motivation to its limit and draining me, so I promised myself that I would wait until I received an answer on the discussion board before trying something new. I checked the board frequently as the day dragged on, eagerly awaiting my next step to fall into my paws, but it wasn't until the trip I spent right after lunch the following day that a second notecard made an appearance.

The soles of my flats tapped lightly over the brick road as I emerged into the square, sauntering across the empty space to reach the corkboard. The entire town already seemed to be baking with heat, pulsing furiously across the space from the peak of the summer day. The peanut butter sandwich I had consumed just minutes before departing from my house was sitting comfortably in my stomach now, leaving me satisfied and gently full as I strode along the path.

As soon as I stepped out from behind the tree, stealing an inquiring glance at the corkboard across the way, the sight that was presented to me flung my eyes open wide. Could it be? My pace quickened, leading me briskly over to the discussion board and the two notecards that now fit snugly against the surface, one that was my own and another below it that potentially held the answer to my situation.

As soon as my reach permitted it, I raised my paw to hastily unpin the lower notecard from the board and withdraw it down to eye level. I scanned through the neat but small writing on the card, eyes grabbing at any inscribed resolution I could find, only to discover that my best possibility was already in my paws waiting to be read.

Unfortunately, there isn't much to do for work around here to begin with, but I do know that the museum just on the outside of town has been hiring for quite some time and would love to have some new workers! They're currently closed for the moment due to the accidental release of a few winged creatures, but they're still accepting applications for when the doors open once again. All you have to do is write them a letter to be used as a sort of resume and they'll decide whether or not to give you an interview. Good luck, woof!

This was it! This was exactly the answer I had been searching for, a strong restart to my objective. All I had to do was follow the instructions on the card and try my luck at finding a job at the mentioned museum. Surely I could formulate a decent letter and gain an interview. This was going to be a piece of cake!

In my mind, I was already starting to put together the letter I would soon put to paper as I spun on my heel to leave the square, clutching the notecard in my paw and ignoring the fact that my grasp was causing it to crease faintly. Without a second glance back, I broke into a hurried walk back the way I had come from, already decided on the first thing I would do as soon as I arrived at home. The journey back to my house only stole a few minutes of my time with the hastened step to my stride. My feet carried me up the stairs to the door so swiftly that one of them caught on the final step, lurching me into a stumble before I snagged ahold of the doorknob. A jolting thrust to open the door sent me almost leaping through the doorway, slamming the door shut behind me without missing a beat.

A short visit to the storage room earned me a pencil to write with and a single sheet of paper, which I had torn out from my narrow notepad before clearing out of the doorway to return to the table. I emerged into the dining room from the hallway, drawing back a chair from the table without so much as a pause and plopping down into a seat before laying out my tools in front of me. I already knew the best way to open up the letter. That part was easy. I plucked my pencil from the table again and neatly scrawled a greeting of good afternoon at the top of the page to perform professionalism. My pencil paused over the page after these words, slow to find the best sentences to create a persuasive flow, before the obvious bubbled up to attention and I ducked my head over the paper to keep writing.

My name is Isabelle, I scribbled tidily onto the page, leaving a chunk of space between the greeting and the body of text. I am a seventeen year old Shih Tzu dog currently in search of work. I have been made aware of the current job openings in this museum and am hoping that I can receive an interview.

Well, at least it was the main point out of the way. There wasn't a chance the museum would take me with three sentences, so there had to be some way I could expand on the information I already had. Most likely, they would be wanting to know more about me and my ambitions to see if I was a good fit for the job, maybe even my education. Within a second, my pencil was scratching across the page again.

I think that I might be a good fit for any jobs you have to offer, I jotted down onto the page before glancing back at the sentence I had just written. If there was anything I knew about applying for a job, it was that employers always preferred confidence and self-assurance rather than lack thereof. I wiped out the sentence with my eraser to try again. I personally believe that I will be a good fit for any jobs you have to offer. I am hardworking, loyal, and will always perform my best self with every day that I would be working. I also feel that my level of education is a strong addition to my potential working status, as I am a university graduate with degrees in engineering. If I am hired at this museum, I promise to show great dedication to my work and all the aspects that come with it.

Was there really anything else to mention on the topic? I let my gaze sift through the writing on the paper for a moment, reflecting on everything I had brought to attention and hesitated to determine what was left to say. I had already stated who I was, why I wanted the job, and why I should have been hired, so any unnecessary rambles could cost me the chance to even prove myself. Maybe it was time to express my gratitude and move on.

I sincerely hope that you consider my offer of work. Thank you for taking the time to read my application, and I hope to hear from you soon. Best regards, Isabelle.

And then it was done. I raised my head to find a few solid paragraphs of writing sitting in front of me, ready to be submitted off for viewing and consideration. I could only hope that it was indeed my best work and that I wasn't just wasting my time spitting out writing that would end up meaning nothing. Perhaps I should have stopped by the store to purchase some envelopes before leaping back into this plan.

A cringe quickly reached my mouth at the thought of submitting my letter without even the formality of an envelope as I carefully folded the sheet of paper in half, but for a moment, I could only sit and examine it in my paws as a thought worked its way through my mind. As implied in the notecard I had received, this was my only chance to work right where I was. If I missed this chance, it would never come around again. I needed this job more than anything. This was the only way I could manage to regain the Bells that I was already losing faster than I could process and if I messed this up, I could have been throwing away my entire life.

I didn't even want to know where the number was at now. With the time that I had spent both in the house and at the campsite, the amount of Bells that were left was most definitely not going to look good. In the back of my mind, I could already see the bare shelves that had once been stocked decently with bags of Bells and it was useless to run from the fact that the image could become a reality very soon.

I had to see it. I would only be gnawed away by curiosity and a sickening anticipation if I didn't have a clear idea of how close I was to becoming utterly broke and what I was just about to risk trying to snag this job at the museum. I dropped my letter onto the table as I pushed myself to my feet, easing myself out from between the table and the chair, and started off down the hallway to make my reappearance at the storage room.

The dim lights of the room flickered to life above me as I switched on the light switch at the door, casting illumination over the space to reveal the familiar sight. A few boxes lined the upper shelf on the wall to my left, though not nearly as much as the number of boxes my parents held in their own storage room. I reached up towards the first box in my reach, tilting it downward to allow me to peek inside, yet there was nothing there. I checked the other boxes along the row, soon finding them just as empty as the first, until I came across the last one.

The jingle of the Bells inside of the bags was much too faint for comfort as I jolted the opening of the box down to eye level, straining to get a glimpse of what was inside. The number of bags was so slim that it took no effort to spy out the bottom of the box beneath it, but my eyes darted to count them nevertheless. One, two, three. I had three bags of Bells left entirely.

A hollow, numb feeling was etching into my chest as I gazed blankly down at the three bags of Bells in the bottom of the box, my paw still perched over the top edge. Three bags worth of Bells was nothing more than two or three hundred of them. How could the number possibly have dropped so much already? If I only lived in the house for less than a week, how fast was that number going to drop all the way to zero?

With the current state I was in, the truth was clear. I had to do something to pull myself out of this situation and I had to do it immediately. I didn't want to consider the possibilities of the future if the museum turned me away. It was now or never and I couldn't let anything stand in my way.

I didn't glance back. I thrust the box back into place on the shelf, switched the lights off again on my way through the doorway, and departed from the room to prepare for my trip to the museum.

.   .   .

Dear Isabelle,

Firstly, we would like to start off this letter with expressing our sincere gratitude for your courteous thoughts and actions. We are very glad that you have taken an interest in a job at this museum and we highly appreciate your efforts in pursuing a position of work. Your working qualities are both noted and respected. By any other occasion, we would not hesitate to extend the offer of a job interview to someone of your skill and persistence. We do agree that the qualities you have listed would indeed make you a good fit for this job. However, while a strong education and the consistent ability to maintain hard work are some of the most promising qualities for a job, there is a problem yet with a statement you have made, particularly in the second sentence.

We regret to inform you that the museum has a strict policy of age during the hiring process that the applicant can only be twenty-two years of age or older to be considered for a job. As you have written that you are none older than seventeen years, your application has been made unavailable for consideration. We apologize for the unfortunate news and hope for your contribution in the future.

Please have a nice day.

A heavy thud bounced off the spacious walls of the dining room and kitchen as my head was sent down to the surface of the table. The surface of the table held a soft chill underneath my forehead and the letter sat motionless beside my head after I had slammed it down. I could have had the job! It had been so close in reach, so close that I almost grabbed hold of it, and now I had just lost it because I was simply too young.

It was over now. The final opportunity to rescue myself and my Bells had slipped out of my grasp and was gone. That was it. There was nowhere else I could turn. I was going to be rid of all of my money in a few days' time and there was nothing I could do to put an end to it. Minutes crept past in silence, but I couldn't bring myself to raise my head from the table. The heavy pounding of my heart throbbed on to remind me that this was real, that I had just genuinely lost everything I had worked for in the past four months, that this wasn't some sort of sick or twisted dream in the depths of night. This was what reality felt like.

I almost felt as though I were sinking, drooping into the surface of the table, eyes closed and shriveled up tight to block out the piercing truth. Even though I hardly moved, it was as if every moment of my time snatched away whatever freedom I had left. And after all of these thoughts made their rounds through my head, I realized I had never been so alone in the world, slowly crawling towards the inevitable fate of my own failure with no one by my side.

Redd.

The name flashing through my mind yanked my head up from the table again, eyes snapped open wide at the realization putting itself together in my thoughts. Maybe there was still hope in gaining support from someone nearby! All I had to do was confide in him about my situation and we could work something out together. It was only shortly after eleven in the morning—Surely he would be out working by now. This option strongly implied the likely possibility that he would once again prompt an answer to whether I wanted to work for him, but I wasn't worried. After all, it was about time that I finally gave him one.

I was bursting through the doorway out of my house in almost a second flat, launching myself out of the door and tugging it closed behind me. Immediately, I began to scurry down the stairs to start off on my search, but evidently made too swift of a step and sent my feet slipping out from under me. I crashed down onto the top stair on my back end with what seemed to be my entire body weight, causing a shot of pain up my back as I scrambled to grab hold of the wood again, but I disregarded it as I climbed to my feet again and broke into a quickened walk towards the road.

The next moment, I was already running, feet pounding against the brick of the road as I began to push on towards the usual place of Redd's sales. I hardly even spent a thought on the animals wandering through the opposite sides of the street, some of their eyes turned to me after my fall, and let my sprinting feet carry me closer to my destination. The bells in my ponytail bounced and rattled with every drop of my foot and my breath had already surrendered to heavy panting, but still I did not stop.

My heart hammered in my chest, nearly matching the rhythm of my feet against the brick road. Door after door passed me by as I dashed along the middle of the road, eyes jumping frantically to locate the sight of the familiar cart. I reached the break between houses seven and nine, the space I seemed to have visited so often in the past few days, but staggered to an abrupt stop only to discover the grass empty with only evident wheel tracks in the grass in its place.

What? My gaze sprung every which way around me, trying to catch a glimpse of the cart anywhere along the street, having no success until a thought tumbled into my mind. Wait a minute! What was it that he had said to me the first day we had met? If I recalled correctly, he had told me that he moved around frequently with his cart and never remained in the same place for too long. He must have been somewhere else in the town, most likely closer to where larger groups of animals gathered. If I hurried, maybe I could catch him.

Within seconds, I had burst into a run once again, bounding off in the direction I had been heading before I had stopped. With any luck, I might have been able to find him in the main square, as that was where animals tended to cluster around this time of day. My thoughts were spinning around my head faster than I could process and my eyes were sharp, eagerly hunting for any familiar sign, but to no avail. Each patch of grass and dirt between houses was just empty as I flew past, leading up to the square with nothing but a diminishing hope. No cart.

The square was bustling with animals coming and going across the street, but as far as my eye could reach, there was no Redd among them. A sharp pain was scraping through my chest with every panting breath as I stumbled to slow my pace, scouring the sights of the square to catch a glimpse of the cart or my friend. Finding neither of the two, I forced my feet into motion again, taking off towards the other end of the square to continue the search on the other end of the town.

The rest of the town looked exactly the same as the first half. Each bit of empty space proved itself unoccupied with no hint that anyone had been there at all. My gaze consistently swept over the space around me, searching and still failing to catch sight of anything or anyone I knew well. No cart, no Redd.  It wasn't long before the end of the town had crept into sight, separating the brick street from endless fields of shortened grass and doing absolutely nothing for me but making the fact clear that he was not here either.

Where? The word echoed through my mind as I lurched to a sudden stop in the middle of the street. Where? Where? Where?

My lungs felt like they were screaming with a burning pain at this point. My chest rose and fell with strangled gasps for air, causing a faint whimper to cling to each breath and my face to contort to match the pain. My sore eyes threatened to start pulling out tears as my head swiveled to take one last desperate look around me and I scanned the horizon, though blindly. Animals passed me by without even sparing a glance but it seemed like I wasn't a part of them, standing as an outsider or something that didn't quite exist right in the middle of everything, and none of them were Redd. The scene around me almost seemed to sway as I tried hopelessly to pinpoint his presence in the crowd and as the truth slowly began to sink in.

And just like that, vanishing as abruptly as he had arrived, he was gone.