"Listen here for a minute, Isabelle," Mom said gently, carefully taking my head in her paws and lifting it to allow my gaze to meet hers. "I want you to know something, okay? There is always going to be darkness in this world. There is no need to run from it or fear it, since it will never truly leave. So when the darkness ascends and dims the stars in your sky, all you have to do is have hope. Hope is like a beautiful little moth with dazzling wings of diamond. If you take care of it, look after it, and protect it, only then will it grow. And then, in time, it will find its way back to the light."

If there was any lesson in particular that my parents taught me that I still carried with me to this day, it was to always have hope. It didn't matter what the situation was or how I was currently feeling; if I had hope, I would always make it out alive and stronger. The whole world could have been crashing down on me, but if I had at least one little ray of hope, then there was a guaranteed brighter future waiting for me. I was told it was one of the most powerful things in the universe-- A close second to love, of course.

When the museum rejected my job offer, I lost my Bells, and Redd went missing, I thought that the world really was caving in on me. I thought that nothing would ever be right again and that my life had been permanently screwed up in just a couple of days. But even as the Bells in my storage room quickly disappeared from sight and within a week left my shelves bare, the thought that everything was going to be consistently bad from here on out wasn't sitting quite right with me, almost like I was purposefully lying to myself or it was simply a game of pretend. If there was anything I learned from my puppyhood, it was that nothing remained bad forever. And my situation didn't; eventually, problems were slowly working their way to solutions and everything was coming back into place.

With Redd gone, I found it safe to take the risk I had avoided so well before. Considering I had reached the point where I was unable to regain the Bells I was losing by myself, it was clear that what I needed most was help from the animals around me. I took my concerns to the discussion board where I had been directed to the museum, confessing that in a turn of events I had completely run out of Bells in a single week and was therefore unable to go on purchasing essentials for myself. I ended the statement by requesting the help I so desperately needed, worried that my situation would soon turn from bad to worse, and left the notecard on the board to wait for answers. And fortunately, it was a cry for help that was not ignored.

Before long, offers began to pop up out of nowhere from different animals residing in the town and even the campsite to provide me with some of the Bells I was missing. The overwhelming kindness and support I received in such little time from a single request was most definitely not something I had expected, and shortly, the shelves began to be filled again. A substantial weight was lifted from my shoulders to see such a massive dilemma in the process of being solved, finally accepting the fact that I was not going to be starving any time soon, and continued to live life as I had before I had this to be concerned about.

However, while I was receiving the financial support I required, I was no longer forced to find work. As the number of Bells steadily rose again, the need had begun to decrease, and therefore the pressure eased as well. The urge to apply for a job for Redd had also come and gone, considering that the demand to find work had lessened dramatically and it was soon clear that I had no way to reach him. The thought occurred to give him a call after he had mysteriously vanished from the town to try and grasp a clearer idea of what was happening, but being as clumsy and forgetful as I was, I had somehow already managed to misplace the slip of paper that held his phone number somewhere in my house. With the option to contact him unavailable, I fell back into the agreement I had made with myself to not push my commitment to searching for work to the extent of trying to work for him, but waited for his return nevertheless.

Redd never did return the day he had vanished without a trace, nor did he make an appearance any of the following days afterward. June came to its swift end and bled into July, and yet Redd was nowhere to be found. He still didn't show up again even as July rolled further, growing closer to August. I searched for him at every corner, waiting for the first sign of his appearance each day with a tingling anticipation like a young animal on Toy Day. And yet, there wasn't even a hint of his return.

Without Redd's company, the town had developed into something very lonely once again, as I had no other friends to spend my time with. I was spending the majority of my time by myself now, and it was easy to tell that I was slowly sinking back into the pattern of isolation that I had trapped myself in a week ago. I wasn't leaving my house often, except to go out and buy groceries with the addition of the occasional walk, which I took advantage of to search the streets for Redd's presence. Every day that I failed to find him almost seemed like we were drifting further and further apart, and yet this wasn't the only friendship that I was being distanced from.

Over the months of June and July, the number of conversations I spent on the phone with Digby grew considerably less and no longer exceeded two or three times per month. As the need for work lightened, I had begun to ease off of my reliance on him in a direct reaction with the knowledge that he had been trying to push me toward it so far. The consistent effort and persistence he gave to force me to find a job easily drained my energy right out of my system knowing that it wasn't going to happen any time soon and simply weighed me down every time we talked. Because of this, it had become noticeably less entertaining to speak with him at all, since all of our conversations seemed to only go one way.

Despite how tiresome the conversations grew, I maintained an effort to call once in a while to be at least a decent friend for him, but even this action eventually began to feel like a chore. The tension was still rigid between us from the past few months, leaving every sentence to feel almost forced and awkward. Though I tried to smooth out the edges by managing an upbeat tone in conversation, the fact that I never received the same energy sent uncomfortable jabs through my gut. Digby always sounded rather unenthusiastic while speaking to me, sometimes more so than other times, and while I never understood this, it eventually led me to become less inclined to call at all.

But there was not a chance I could ever let him go completely. He was still my own twin brother and I still loved and cherished him dearly. It was almost inevitable that we would go through tense periods in our relationship, as it was a common aspect of both regular friendships and sibling friendships. We had been through times like this in the past, and we had always succeeded in finding a way out of it together once we both put our minds to it. And so, as the month crept closer to the end of July, I made a choice for us.

My bedroom was illuminated with the golden light of late afternoon as I inched my way through the doorway, awkwardly holding the round table where the phone had once sat by the rim as I lifted it through the doorway and shuffled patiently into the room. It wasn't heavy, as I had anticipated before transporting it from one room to the next and caused no strain to my arms to carry it, but it was indeed bulky while I brought it carefully through the doorway. After the first trip to the living room that I had made, the phone had been plopped down carelessly onto the surface of my bed, denting the blankets and silent as it had ever been.

I lowered the table back to the floor beside the bed, checking that it was standing upright sturdily before clasping hold of the phone on the blanket. I shifted the phone to the table at my hip, setting it down and arranging it to position it neatly on the surface. Only once this task was complete did I withdraw my paws again, retreating a few steps to examine my work from afar.

There, I thought, examining the new sight right beside my bed. Maybe now that the phone was set up in a place I visited more frequently, the number of calls would start to rise as well instead of being so often put aside and forgotten. All it started with was a little bit of effort. That being acknowledged, there was no better time to try and call Digby again.

I plopped down into a seat on the disrupted blankets of my bed, plucking the phone from the receiver and putting it to my ear. Even to this day and with the lack of contact, the number was still as fresh in my memory, a distinct set of digits in the front of my mind. I punched in the numbers on the phone to dial the call to Happy Home, settled back in my slouched seat on the bed, and waited as the phone began to ring out on the other line.

The ring droned on for a few long seconds, but I was patient. My feet thumped rhythmically against the surface of the floor as I listened to the unbothered ringing to prompt an answer, but as the wait stretched longer, I couldn't help but feel a sort of clicking and whirring doubtful anticipation etching into my chest. I didn't even need the conversation to begin to know exactly what it would consist of, and I wasn't quite sure how to feel about it.

The faint click on the other line after the phone had rung out a few times implied that someone had finally answered. Hardly a moment later, a perky voice came into sound to greet me, a voice that I could recognize as Digby's without even a thought.

"You've reached the number for Happy Home Designer. This is Digby. What can I do for you today?" Digby spoke up brightly after the phone had finally been picked up. It was a different greeting-- Digby seemed to be trying out new strategies to attract customers-- but the very same lively tone. He always picked up the phone with this tone, but the fact that it progressively dropped once we started talking only made it clear that it wasn't meant for me.

"Good afternoon, Digby," I greeted him, distractedly fidgeting with the ruffles on my scarlet dress as I spoke. "It's me, Isabelle. I like your new greeting."

"Oh, hello, Isabelle," Digby replied, but a notable amount of enthusiasm had already been cut from his voice, leaving it more casual and less like an engaged host. I wasn't pleased with how effortlessly he could just switch over; it made it seem like the joy in his voice hadn't been genuine at all. "Thank you. I've actually been trying some new ones to test the effect."

"It's a bit longer than the ones I've heard, isn't it?" I guessed.

"Yes, well, that's just a thing I do, I suppose," Digby admitted with slight hesitation. "I like to talk in the places where I can fill out the quietness, which is why I've been extending my greeting a bit. I'm not really fond of when things get quiet."

"Really? Why not?" I inquired.

"Because it pulls you back into yourself," Digby told me.

I wasn't exactly sure what this statement was supposed to mean, and so when I opened my mouth to reply, I struggled to find the right words. "Oh," I managed after a moment, then swept the topic out of the way to avoid the explanation of my confusion. "Anyway, how have you been lately? I know it's been a little while since we last talked."

"There's nothing to mention. Things are... as they always are, I guess you could say," Digby explained. "What about you? Are you doing well?"

"I'm great, actually. I really can't complain," I told him. "Everyone here is so nice to me. I feel like I completely belong here. It's almost like a home away from home now."

"Good. That's a pleasant feeling to have," Digby mumbled.

"I've even been interacting with the other animals a lot more," I went on. "It's a little scary trying to make friends on my own, but I think I'm doing well. That's already such a big leap from where I used to be. It's like I'm finally becoming able to open up and get to know everyone without it being too awkward."

"Hmm," Digby muttered in response, but this was the only thing he said. I stifled a sigh at the sound of this, as a thought was starting to inch through my mind in wonder if he was trying to avoid the conversation, even though I wasn't finished with my explanation.

"Every once in a while, they have a sort of social gathering for everyone in the town to hang out and get to know each other, but I've only been to a few so far," I pointed out, ignoring his lack of participation in the conversation. "They're incredible, by the way. There's all this food and talking and just thorough enjoyment of each other's presence. I think I'm really starting to like it here."

"Well, it definitely sounds..." Digby began, but he almost seemed to stumble over and choke on his words like they were painful for him to say. "It sounds like you're having a lot of fun."

The sudden heaviness in his voice sent a weak lurch to my heart with concern. "Hey, are you okay?" I asked him anxiously. "Am I talking too much?"

"No, you're fine," Digby told me, his voice quieting slightly as he withdrew a little ways from the phone. "It's just that you caught me at kind of a bad day. Everything's been so stressful and tiresome today."

"At least you'll be going home soon," I reminded him. "Speaking of which, how is everything at home? What's it been like?"

It took Digby a few seconds to find an answer to this question. I heard him take a slow, deep breath, processing his response for a pause before offering a single word.

"Quiet," he decided at last.

"Really?" I replied. Surely he wasn't referencing the fact of my absence; there was no way my presence could have made such a difference, since I hardly did much when I was there at all. Maybe it was just because I only saw myself through my own eyes.

"Yeah," Digby murmured. "It's just quiet now."

"Oh," I said, scouring my mind for the best thing to say. Maybe I could have given a word of comforting or at least assurance that I was still there for him. Maybe I could have changed the subject to lighten the mood. But the words didn't come.

When I went silent, so did Digby. Not even a sound was omitted from the other line as I sat in the stillness of the moment, and for a little while, I was completely alone. Every second was stretched into a million as I waited for either words to leap to my tongue or for Digby to say something so I didn't have to.

I had made myself busy fussing with the crinkles in my dress again when the sound of another deep breath from Digby snatched my attention back to the phone at my ear. "I think you can probably guess what I want to ask you, Isabelle," he muttered, finally shifting the topic as the past one had obviously failed.

Yes, I could. In fact, I had known this moment would come from the very moment I picked up the phone at all. "What's that?" I asked, already anticipating the answer I was about to receive from the moment the words left me and traveled right into the phone in my paw.

"Listen, I know you don't want to hear this. I know how it bothers you. You need to acknowledge just how important it is," Digby explained. "Have you managed to find some work yet? I'm getting a little bit concerned."

"Well, no," I admitted, causing my words to stretch with dread clinging to them as I forced out the truth, but it was only after I had let these words go did a thought slip through my mind. With the number of months I'd spent away from home only to realize that a small portion of them was spent actually searching for a job, the truth didn't exactly make my argument look pretty. "But hey, it's not like I'm not trying," I protested in a hasty addition in defense of myself. "I've just been getting a lot of help financially lately and there isn't really much need to search for work. I've been getting help with gaining Bells from the other animals in the town so that I don't run out while I don't have work. I appreciate their support and with it am not required to find a job for the current moment."

"It's okay. You don't need to explain yourself," Digby said, gently yet rather lifelessly. He allowed himself a few seconds' pause to try and search for something to say before offering a question, hesitant as it was a very abrupt inquiry. "Have you considered the thought of coming back home?"

"Coming home?" I echoed. Why in the world would he want me to come home after pushing me so far to find work? "Why would I do that? I can't do that."

"Well, why not?" Digby prompted.

"The reason I left home in the first place was to find work for myself," I insisted. "If I haven't yet found some sort of job, then I can't just leave that task incomplete."

"Okay. I understand," Digby answered, but the beat of silence before his words put the truth of the statement to uncertainty. "Just consider it at least, would you? And take care of yourself, please."

"I will," I said. At least I could promise that much.

"Okay, I'm sorry, but I've got to go now," Digby told me. A change had already evolved in his voice again as he abruptly requested dismissal, a tone that caused it to become mildly tense. Just the sound of it sent a throbbing tug of guilt at my heart. "I've already been away from my work for much too long. I need to get off the call."

"Wait, why?" I urged to know, but my question was disregarded.

"I'm sorry, Isabelle. I'll talk to you soon, I promise," Digby replied and in a single moment had already hung up the phone, snatching my words and leaving me no room whatsoever for any protest.

The bright lights of the grocery store seemed to throb against my sore and tired eyes. My feet shuffled sluggishly across the pale marble floor as I pushed my cart forward with every step, drowsily wandering through the aisles. My shopping list had been scribbled down onto a small slip of paper which I held loosely in my paw, catching the center of my attention as my gaze occasionally flicked over to check what I needed to acquire.

Getting groceries had been on my to-do list since last night, but I wasn't exactly on the best terms with myself after letting me sleep in until a little ways after noon. The amount of time I'd already lost simply lounging in bed and sleeping through the morning easily brought a scowl to my face. And now, here I was, dragging my feet through the store after stumbling out of my house regretting the decisions I had made while I was still half-asleep, thinking that there had been nothing wrong with knocking out a few more hours than I planned to just because I was tired in the moment.

Into the cart went a couple of loaves of bread in tightly-packed plastic bags after grabbing them one by one from the shelf and dropping them inside, but even as I emerged from the bread aisle again, my thoughts were already crawling elsewhere. Every unfamiliar face that passed me by only thrust me further into the acknowledgment that I hardly knew anyone here. It was almost as if I had fancied myself everyone's friend after receiving their help with finances, but in reality, they were simply friendly faces who came and went. Despite how much I wanted to deny the truth, I had absolutely no proper friends here, at least for the current moment, and no connections to any animals around me. I glumly mulled over this fact as I continued to weave the cart through slim crowds of animals to continue my shopping. And then there was the entire situation with Digby. Something was clearly off with him, but what caused it or why he acted so strange and abrupt was beyond me. I'd never known him to fully avoid someone, especially not me, considering how close we'd been in previous years, so with any hope that wasn't the case. But maybe I was just fooling myself in thinking so. Maybe he really was trying to evade our conversations for some inexplicable reason, and maybe it was because of something I did.

It must have been my fault. It was easy to connect the dots to see what could have been bothering him, considering he consistently brought up the very same topics. He always wanted to know if I had found a job yet. As the answer had never changed in the alarming length of almost half a year and he was gradually becoming unenthusiastic at the lack of news, the disappointment he held for me had never been clearer. So that was what all of this was... Disappointment.

I knew I should have been feeling guilty. But at the same time, I knew it wasn't my fault that I hadn't found some form of work yet. Due to the conflicting of my thoughts, I found myself rather indifferent to the entire situation, trusting in the fact that the situation wouldn't worsen if I did nothing. After all, it wasn't like he was here with me to be a constantly present reminder of my failure. It was nearly impossible to tell what he was thinking now, with the miles and miles of distance that tore us apart.

A hollow void was boring a hole in the depths of my stomach as I shuffled past the tables supporting bins and baskets of a colorful array of fruits, listening to the faint peeping sounds of the wheels at my feet. It was a very depressing thought to come to that someone I had once spent every day of my life with was now gone, no longer a persistent presence at my side. I couldn't see his face, hear his voice, or share his time; I could only catch a glimpse of him in my thoughts or my dreams at night. And not only that, but he wasn't even the only animal I could claim this for.

I had more questions than I could list off the top of my head for Redd and his mysterious disappearance. To this day, I still wished I could see just where he had gone to and what he was doing. If I could at least know that, then maybe I could have had a clearer idea of what in the world was going on. Surely he had a good reason to be away for so long, but after vanishing for nearly two months without a word, I had begun to question both whether he was coming back at all and his dedication to our friendship. I wasn't fond of the idea of him completely abandoning the town just like that, but with no information to grab, it was inevitable for the imagination to run wild. Friends didn't abandon each other.

I promptly worked through the remainder of my shopping list, mentally crossing off each item until I had gathered everything I needed within half an hour since my arrival. I checked out my items at the front of the store, piling everything into the backpack I had carried with me for the transaction of the Bells and returning the cart to its parking segment. It was slowly creeping towards two o'clock in the afternoon before I finally had the chance to clear out of the grocery store, venturing under the baking midsummer sun and hauling my bulky backpack back home.

The street had been completely deserted as I strolled through to reach my house near the end. The straps of my backpack pressed firmly onto my shoulders, supporting its intense weight as I made my way across the road, head swiveling to take note of every house number that passed me by with the faint jingle of the bells on my head with every glance, but it was in sparing glimpses of the doors around me that I noticed something peculiar.

Almost half of the doors that I ventured past displayed a bright orange sheet of paper taped to the surface. From where I walked, I could even see chunks of small black text over the orange color but was too far to comprehend just what it said, and since I knew it was impolite to read slips of paper on my neighbors' doors, I left them be to continue on my way back to my own house. However, as I neared the door to my home from the street, it soon occurred to me that my house had not been left out of the distribution of paper and held an orange sheet just like many others.

My paw was already reaching for the sheet of paper taped to my door as I climbed the stairs, peeling it from the door and dropping my eyes to scan the text as soon as I had reached the top. If anything, with the dark text and the bright background, it was most certainly not difficult to read. Ignoring the throbbing ache that settled in my shoulders from the heavy backpack, I gripped the sheet of paper in my paws and scanned through the information.

You're invited!

Good morning, resident. We are happy to inform you that you have been invited to a social gathering by means of a public brunch organized by the members of the campsite. The event will take place on the third of August during the hours of ten to noon. It will be held in the main square and will provide a wide variety of meals and snacks to choose from. This is a casual gathering rather than a formal one, though any attire will be permitted.

Attendance is not required, but highly suggested. Please consider this invitation, and we hope to see you stop by!

There was a public brunch on August 3rd. It was only the 31st of July, so that left plenty of time to contemplate whether or not I would be attending. However, for now, I had no time to think about it; my main priority was getting into the house and finding myself some lunch.

I lowered the sheet of paper from view, twisting the doorknob to enter the house and thrusting the door open. Exactly as I had left it, the house was empty and quiet as I emerged through the doorway, quietly pushing the door latched shut once I was inside, and from there I left the door with the task of putting away the groceries.

Firstly, the slip of paper I had torn from the door was abandoned with a careless toss towards the table before I went right across the room to the kitchen. Frozen foods were chucked into the freezer, refrigerated foods below in the fridge, and bread on the very end of the counter before I began to scour the kitchen for a quick and easy meal. I promptly decided on and snagged a cup of instant noodles from the cupboard, shifting the dial for the stove temperature up a few notches and pouring water from the sink into a small pan that I grabbed from its own cupboard. I abandoned the pan of water on the stove to boil, but as leaping bubbles gradually began to arise, my thoughts were already crawling elsewhere.

I listened to the bubbling and popping sound of the boiling water on the stove as I turned my focus away, tearing open the paper lid of the cup of noodles to begin cooking. Once the container was open, I latched my grip with one paw onto the cool handle of the pan protruding out towards me to hold it steady, cautiously pouring the contents of the cup into the boiling water in front of me and watching the raw noodles plop messily into the liquid. Even as I completed this action, it was hardly noted as my thoughts clung to a different matter, nearly distracting me from the task at hand.

The words exchanged in my last conversation with Digby were replaying themselves through my mind again, as they had made a habit of doing often over the past few days. While I wiped beads of sweat rising from my forehead from the steamy air with my arm, I could still hear his voice in my head asking me about work and whether or not I would be returning home. I let these thoughts sit in my mind as I withdrew the drawer at my hip to retrieve a large spoon, venturing through the possibilities the thought brought about and finally beginning to process what had been said. But once I explored the conversation as a second run amongst my thoughts, it was then that a new idea dawned on me.

Maybe it really was time that I returned home. This possibility drove my path of thought as I withdrew a large spoon from the drawer, nudged it closed, and proceeded to immerse the spoon into the boiling liquid to stir the cooking noodles. After all, there was really nothing left for me here anymore. No matter how hard I tried to find work, it was never an option for me. Not only that fact, but I no longer had any friends here; it didn't quite seem like Redd would be making an appearance any time soon, so that contributing factor was tossed out of the mix as well. Returning home would definitely be a very pleasant sensation for me, as I would have the chance to return to the comfort of the life I had always known, but most of all, it would probably make Digby happy as well. With any luck, he might have even started addressing me with the same level of enthusiasm that he had before I had left at all.

The water hissed noisily, spitting a flick of liquid towards my paw holding the handle of the pan, and so I swiftly reached across the stove to adjust the dial slightly lower as it had been before it lashed out before resuming my careful stir and sinking back into my thoughts.

This would have been the very first opportunity to leave for home that I had had for quite a while, if that counted for anything. A few weeks ago, I didn't even have the Bells to afford a boat off the island. If there was any point in time to consider the possibility of going home, it was now. But was it something I really wanted?

My paw stirring the noodles with the spoon came to a pause at a different thought to creep into my mind and my gaze flicked over my shoulder to the dining table across the room, where the sheet of paper with my invitation to a public brunch sat curling upward at the edges in its lack of use. I hadn't yet made any plans to attend as of the current moment, but perhaps it was the best time to start considering it. In fact, it might have even been a good idea to attend. That way, if I managed to make a few new friends while I was out, then I would have a reason to pull me one way in my decision. If nothing happened, then there was no harm done.

Yes, that was what I would do. Whatever happened at the brunch on the third would determine whether or not I would continue to make a home in this little town. If there was nothing to pull me back to my simple life here, then I would be returning home on the earliest boat on the fourth. All I needed to do was go with the flow and see how events played out. It was a plan.

A few minutes had already crawled by since the water had boiled when I checked the noodles again to find them droopy and no longer stiff, a sure sign that they were completely cooked. Prepared to begin the meal, I reached my paw back over the stove to switch off the dial.

Fortunately, the month of August opened up to a wave of mildly cooler temperatures as it slowly rolled closer to the season of autumn. Leaves on trees scattered throughout the town had already begun to change color, slowly slipping from a deep green on their way to orange and red. The days passed like any other, steadily crawling along with no notable events to name as they counted down to the third. Quite honestly, the town wasn't making much of an argument to convince me to stay with the frequent lack of action.

And then, seeming as though it was in the blink of an eye, the day finally arrived. It was a day cooler than the rest, allowing gentle courses of lukewarm breezes to sweep over the streets. A lovely day to attend a social gathering and make important decisions. Such a special occasion called for attire that was perhaps a bit more formal than what I might usually wear, so after I had managed to pull myself out of bed at about nine-thirty, I dressed myself in a neat white dress tied with a silver bow that protruded from the back.

The dress fit snugly as I adjusted it into place, shifting the silk fabric at the waist and brushing down the thin skirt that fell to my knees. My stomach was already giving out a faint groan of hunger as my paws danced to smooth down first the fabric of the dress and then the tufts of my bangs split over my forehead, but I knew I had no plans to prepare any food before I left. What was the use, anyway?

I cleared out of the house shortly after I had dressed myself with the possibilities that lay before me on my mind, though mostly what would be present to snack on. Thin, light clouds stretched across a cerulean sky, gracefully illuminating the town and its streets, though the sun was hesitant to come into view. However, this did not bother me as I went along on my way through the street on my journey to the main square, relishing in the comforting subtle warmth of the mid-morning as it was.

I was not alone when I emerged into the square. It must have been only a few minutes past ten at the latest, and yet a handful of animals was already evident, standing in clusters to engage in lighthearted conversation around a wide square table in front of the pine tree draped in an elegant white tablecloth. On this table sat countless bowls and plates of various snacks and pieces of meals that I was too distant from to examine where I entered, but I was drawn forward to my options nevertheless.

I carefully weaved my way through the thin crowd, doing well to avoid the eyes of the animals around me by awkwardly straying mine across the brick road beneath my feet, until I had managed to slip through and approach the edge of the table. As I neared the table at last, I could finally let my gaze reach to the far ends to observe what was available for a bite to eat, my focus grabbing at each dish before me until I had briefly scanned them all. From where I stood, I could catch glimpses of large, round plates containing neatly cut sandwiches, smaller plates for smaller treats such as chocolate donuts and sugar cookies, bowls in a variety of sizes for different types of salads, and so much more filled across the table in a colorful array. I couldn't wait to try so many of these.

After catching sight of a stack of paper plates on the corner of the table at my hip, I delicately peeled the top plate from the stack and carried it with me to begin wandering along the side of the table. A faint, gentle breeze swept across the space, flapping the ends of the table cloth as I kept on, picking out a tomato sandwich to be plopped down onto my plate as well as scooping a regular salad close next to it before moving on to the desserts segment. And oh, there was so much to choose from!

Arriving at the segment of the table directly in front of the pine tree that was evidently the dessert section, a more extensive pause found me with a much wider decision to be made. A number of fancy clear oval plates held rows and rows of little treats ranging from donuts to pale cookies to cupcakes, each row looking equally tempting. Considering my options, I allowed my gaze to flick across the display for a few seconds before reaching for a glazed donut near the back row, but my paw didn't get far.

The animal standing on my right side, previously stocking her plate with a cookie of every type, turned abruptly to depart from the table and in doing so accidentally drove her yellow arm into mine just as I had begun to reach across the table, causing me to jolt away with first instinct. Hardly a moment later, she was already rushing into an apology as my eyes snapped to meet hers to see what had happened.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the animal exclaimed as I stepped to face her. She was a golden retriever dog, perhaps not much older than me, with a yellow tweed dress, a darker yellow patch of fur over her right eye, and a bright smile. I opened my mouth to assure her that it was fine, but before I could get the words out, she had already grabbed hold of my arm with her free paw and was looking me up and down. "Wow, look at you! You look stunning."

My heart gave a faint stumble at the unexpected compliment, but a joyful smile quickly found its way to my face despite this. "Thank you!" I replied.

"Of course, woof!" the golden retriever answered cheerfully. She released my arm at last, moving past me to find her way back into the crowd of animals surrounding the table and soon disappearing among them.

I managed to snag a few round cookies with sugar sprinkled lightly over the top as well as the glazed donut I had tried for before after the golden retriever had vanished into the crowd again, gathering them close to the rest of the meal on my plate before it was clear that I had enough food. Over the past minutes that I had been searching for a snack, more and more animals had begun to join the group, emerging into the square in small clusters as the crowd gradually became thicker. This made it a lot easier to drift through the crowd invisibly, carrying my full plate of food to the outskirts of the cluster with a steadier gaze around me with the larger number of animals, to glance over the scene from afar.

No longer than five minutes since my retreat from the table found me on the outward rim of the square, politely nibbling on one of the cookies I had snatched and examining the place like a film. Time was ever ticking by, with seconds creeping and eyes wandering, and yet no event or interaction came to find me. The unanticipated courtesy of the golden retriever had been pleasant and lingered in my mind, but it had also planted a seed of wonder in my mind that blossomed as I stood alone, a drive of thought to ponder how the eyes that passed me perceived me. Standing as stiff and as still as a board would surely not invite any interaction I had been seeking.

I made adjustments accordingly. To provoke interest, my best bet was to appear essentially confident, perhaps even mysterious, and stand out in a subtle yet intriguing way. A gaze sweeping nonchalantly over the scene, an arm draped elegantly over the ribbon at my waist. I made sure not to smile. I only allowed a bite of my snacks once every few minutes, as stuffing my face with treats wasn't very appealing at all. It wasn't clear as the minutes inched forward if I caught the eye of any animal around me, but I didn't go searching for attention and instead let it come to me. I mused the idea of the image I displayed, curiously mulling over the possibilities of how I was being seen. Did they find me unusual, not like the rest? Maybe nobody cared enough to glance my way, though maybe somebody did. Maybe my blank expression came off as defiant, intimidating even. I could only guess the possibilities of the thoughts I provoked; to all that did not know me, I could have been nothing more than an outsider, a nobody, a mysterious young lady, a pretty little thing.

No, there was probably nobody in this crowd that had thought such things. A small cough of a laugh rose from my throat at the thought, but I let my casual expression wash over my face again before anyone could notice. After all, laughing to myself after no evident prompt wasn't exactly the best look for me to have, and so I relied on my calm stance once again.

And for a while, it worked. As time crept on, the group grew larger and a couple of animals even passed me by to share a few words. One was a perky goat who went on and on about all of the food that was provided to snack on and the other a black and white rabbit who kept calling me 'wee one', but neither stayed for long or attempted to engage in a more extensive conversation. It was slowly becoming clear that while I had met a few friendly animals during the gathering, I would not be making any firm friends. It wasn't looking good for the fight for me to stay.

The main square was considerably populated by now, nearly packed to its limit with heartily chatting and snacking animals. In fact, I had hardly anticipated there to be so many animals making homes here at all; almost the whole town must have been here today. With the repeated exchange of words, I had just about run my nonchalant mask to its limit, slowly sinking back into the familiarity of a casual personality I knew better, but I plastered it over me for as long as I stood to watch the crowd. Surely at least twenty minutes had crawled past since my arrival, and yet I was already regaining thoughts of returning to my home.

The acknowledgment that I was finished interacting with the other animals had just begun to set in when a faint, squeaky sound perked up my attention. At first thought, it was not easily identified what could have been making the approaching sound, but by instinct I tossed my head back to scan my left side to see what was happening. The force that my heart gave to plummet at the sight that was presented to me was nearly indescribable, and the drop of my jaw was quicker than I could hide my shock.

The cart was pushed to a stop along the middle of the far rim of the square before Redd withdrew from it again, moving around it to begin fussing with the display on the surface with his back to me. It was easy to tell that he hadn't yet spotted me; otherwise he might have called out or come over. It was as if my feet had instantly unlatched from their place on the ground, ready to rush over and greet him, before my gaze dropped to the plate in my hand to find an untouched salad and a partially eaten tomato sandwich. It wouldn't have been the most polite to approach with a plate full of food.

I proceeded to emerge into the crowd once more, drifting back towards the wide table and scouring the sides through the thick crowd until I had managed to locate a small trash bin in the corner. I thrust my plate of food into the trash bin as soon as it was within arm's reach, disregarding the fact that I hadn't even been close to finishing, and then I slipped back through the crowd to return to Redd.

Redd still had his back to me as I approached him, distractedly fidgeting with the display on his cart and seeming unaware of my presence, though I shyly inched closer anyway. "Redd?" I prompted after an uncertain pause, and I saw him tense up slightly like my voice had startled him before he turned around to face me.

"Oh, hey, Isabelle!" Redd greeted me, completely casual as if nothing had happened at all.

"What are you doing here?" I urged to know. He had disappeared for weeks, even months, only to turn up at some random gathering without a warning? What in the world was happening?

"Just working," Redd replied, offering an indifferent shrug. Why was he so calm? "Nothing special."

I was beginning to have major difficulty trying to piece out the situation, with all of the baffling contributing factors that added to it. None of this made any sense whatsoever! "You were gone for a very long time," I protested. "I didn't know where you went or when you were going to come back."

"Well, I kinda disappear for a little while sometimes," Redd explained, appearing to take note of my bewildered expression. "I need to move around a lot for my work. That's just the way it is."

Wait a minute. Was that what all of this was? He had even told me that himself on one of the first days of our friendship, and yet I had been led along by the assumption that he meant he moved throughout the town. All it had been was a silly miscommunication all this time!

"Oh," I answered hesitantly as the truth finally clicked in my mind. So... I made some mistakes. "Well, I'm definitely glad to see you!"

"Yeah, I'm glad to see you too!" Redd replied, eagerly allowing a lighthearted grin with his response. He must not have minded the little misunderstanding. The uncomfortable knots in my stomach from the awkward realization eased.

"Would you like me to get you something to eat?" I suggested, sending a brief glance over my shoulder back towards the table, but the crowd had nearly become too thick for me to catch a glimpse of it. "I saw a large variety of different food on the table."

"Oh, I don't think I saw the table," Redd remarked as my gaze flicked back to meet his, peering behind me to try and spot the table. "Yeah, that would be great!"

"Okay! Anything in particular?" I asked brightly.

"Whatever you can find," Redd answered. "I'm not picky."

"All right. I'll go get you something," I offered, sending one last smile his way before emerging into the crowd again. The crowd was heavier than it had been the last time I had attempted to travel through, stealing a longer and more cautious amount of time to duck past the animals standing around the table and to find my footing through the limited space. Even after I had managed to break through to arrive at the table's edge once again, the events of the last few minutes were still burned into my memory like an ever-whirring film, and I found that I struggled to process such an unlikely scenario.

I peeled another paper plate from the stack, inching along the side of the table to gather some food for Redd. I had seen all of my options before, so exploring them as a second run was simply a breeze, and yet I couldn't help keeping an eye out around me for something different. I was trying to catch a glimpse of the friendly dog I had met with earlier to locate her in the crowd as I progressed along the table, but after I had crossed the table and glanced at perhaps every face in the crowd, I came to the discovery that she had already cleared out of the square, most likely around the same point in time as Redd's arrival. Interesting.

I ignored this curious fact, as there was simply nothing I could do about it, and withdrew from the table again with a few sugar cookies and a salad. Redd was still standing casually by the side of his cart when I managed to slip out of the crowd again, his focus patiently following me and the small meal that I brought to him as I approached.

"Here you go!" I announced, reaching out to hold the plate out for him once I was within arm's length again.

"Thanks!" Redd replied, carefully grabbing the plate from my paws and holding it in front of him. Once my paws were free again, I stepped to stand beside him as he examined the contents on the plate.

"Can I get anything else for you?" I asked him.

"I'm okay, but thanks," Redd told me, sparing me a brief glance before returning his attention to his plate and reaching for one of the cookies. I caught this as a hint that he wanted to eat rather than keep talking, so I shifted my focus away to allow him to do so.

The silence quickly grew between us as we stood side by side, pulling me back into my thoughts. While the awkwardness of having nothing to say gradually subsided as I became content with the quietness, it wasn't long before the discovery came to mind that a small smile still lingered on my face from Redd's presence alone. What an unexpected and pleasant surprise it had been for him to show up once again, today of all days!

But it was in the following minutes of the special moment that crept by and swallowed my words that a different thought proceeded to claim its presence in my mind. After the gathering would come to a close, I didn't have the faintest idea of what was meant to happen to us. It was possible that he would stick around for a while longer and try to make sales as he had months ago, but it was just as likely that he would disappear again just like that, like this town was only an insignificant stop in his journey. Now that I had finally managed to regain sight of him, I wasn't thrilled about the idea of losing that again so soon. It was much nicer to have him around. I could only hope that it would actually last this time.

And so, I put forth the question that had been itching to leave me. "Do you think you'll be here for long?" I inquired and Redd, having just finished with his first cookie, abruptly raised his head to glance at me. "In town, I mean, considering you said you move around a lot."

"I'm not sure," Redd admitted in response, giving another slight shrug to show his uncertainty. "It's hard to tell."

"Oh, I see," I replied. Despite the lack of a definite answer, I supposed that the unpredictability was fair enough; after all, it wasn't like he was leaving by choice. It looked like I was going to have to divide my time waiting for his incalculable return point and actually having him here. "Well, that does add a little bit of mystery!"

"Yeah, I suppose it does!" Redd agreed, but his focus was already being drawn back to his plate as he waited for the conversation to end so that he could keep eating. I had no problem with this, so I just smiled to show that I had nothing else to say and turned my focus back to the gathering crowd in front of us.

The group was just filled with life and energy now, but even though I was no longer among it, I was satisfied with my own little segment of the square. Every thought I had of leaving the gathering had completely left my mind as if it had been blown away by the wind; now that I had a reason to keep myself here, I was gradually sinking back into a feeling of belonging. Therefore, I allowed myself to stay for a much more extended period of time and though a conversation was not given until Redd's plate had finally been cleared, I was happy all the same. And there, in that moment by Redd's side, watching the liveliness and friendliness that held together the gathering, I knew: I had to stay here.

The gathering was a wonderful event of joy and entertainment, but then it was over quicker than I had anticipated. The hours seemed to fly by unknowingly as I was simply caught up in the moment, reveling in the sense of life that flowed through the square and purely enjoying the time that I had. Only when the crowd gradually began to disperse did I consider heading out, and as the number of animals continued to shrink, I said my goodbyes to Redd and went for home.

My thoughts were darting to and from my mind as I shuffled back along the street to reach my house, ever so alive from the turn of events that had unfolded. Even after I had made my departure from the square, the newly made memories with Redd were already burned into my thoughts, along with the unpredictability of the future that lay ahead of us. Of course, I would be lonely when the time came for him to leave again, and so I was determined to simply appreciate the time we did have together. Therefore, I now appeared to be at peace with the entire issue; whether he was present or absent, our friendship was not unstable and would surely last through the distance. At the very most, that acknowledgment was something I did not have for weeks before today.

And also, it left me no other choice but to stay. Not just for me, however, but also for Redd. After his kindness and support, the least I could do was to be a consistency among his travels and remain in a place he could return to. I could most definitely manage to keep myself in this town, even if it meant only having his companionship part of the time. That being acknowledged, the idea of returning home had finally been completely pushed out of sight.

That was something Digby should probably hear about. The recognition only dawned on me as I was climbing the wooden stairs to reach the door to my house once again. The last time we had talked, he had asked me to consider the possibility of coming back home, which I certainly had. He must have been waiting for a definite answer from me. Perhaps it was time to give him a call and deliver the good news of my permanent residency.

Once I reached the top of the stairs, I twisted the doorknob in my paw to thrust the door open and emerged into the house.

Silence. There wasn't even a stir. I held the phone to my ear, patiently waiting and listening for the response or even acknowledgment to my statement, but for an extensive pause, it did not come. I had just proudly dropped the announcement that I had officially claimed the town as my home after sending out a call to Digby at Happy Home from the moment I could reach the phone, but everything had just gone quiet.

I had just begun to wonder if Digby had hung up on me before sound arose from the other line again. It was a sigh, though faint, and lingered in the air for a few seconds before Digby spoke.

"So you're not coming home?" Digby asked. "Not even just to visit?"

"Well, sure, I'll visit sometimes. I just don't know when," I explained.

"Just not anytime soon?" Digby replied.

This was going to be a long conversation, I could already feel it. I plopped down into a seat on the edge of my bed before I gave my answer, shifting the phone from under my floppy ear to a more comfortable position. "I don't know, Digby," I told him. "I'm really happy here. I don't know if I want to travel all the way back home for just a few days only to come all the way back here. I'll come visit eventually, just not right away."

"Well, I... I guess that's your choice. There's nothing I can really do about it, then, is there?" Digby inquired, rather tiredly and hesitantly, but then hastily offered a brief addition to make up for it. "It's good that you're happy. I'm glad."

"Thank you for understanding," I said, but since the conversation was at a level point of calmness, I allowed a confession that had crossed my mind once or twice before I had picked up the phone. "I wasn't sure if you'd be angry."

"No, I'm not angry," Digby told me. This was true, as I could hear in his voice, though there didn't seem to be any form of emotion in his tone at all. "I do have a favor to ask you, though, if I may."

"Really? What is it?" I asked him.

"I know you said you don't want to come home permanently, but at least think about visiting every once in a while," Digby went on. "I understand that you might not be able to very often and that you've got a very busy schedule where you are. I'm just asking that you step away from that occasionally and return home for a little while."

But that was the problem. I did not have a busy schedule; I hardly had anything to do at all except eat, sleep, buy groceries, and try to make friends. I could have easily returned home if I pursued that option. So why was I still drawn away from it? Was this all because of Redd?

"Digby, I said I don't know," I urged again, eyes dropping to my free paw resting limp in my lap. A twinge of guilt had begun to twist through my gut, writhing with a deep ache in my chest from the thoughts spinning through my mind and gradually beginning to threaten to pull tears to my eyes. Why did all of our conversations have to be so tiring and energy-draining? "I already told you the reasons why that won't work. I can't promise anything, but I'll see what I can do, okay?"

This response brought another pause. Oh no, I thought to myself as soon as things went quiet, almost struggling to breathe through the suffocating shame that gripped me. In the silence of the moment, it didn't take long for me to start picking up on background sounds on the other line; it was the sound of distant conversations, and not just from one or two animals, but an entire group. Happy Home must have been experiencing a very busy and interactive workday. Instantly, this acknowledgment sparked a different recollection to life in my mind: Digby had never done well in significantly large crowds. In our adolescent years in particular, he had always been a bit tense with the idea of big groups of people but knew how to manage to relax himself when this situation arose. Despite this, while his face had looked calm and collected, his dark eyes had often said help me.

The next thing I knew, Digby was speaking to me again. "Sure, that's fine too. If it makes you happy to stay, then that's great. That's all I want for you. I just really wish I could help you understand why I need to ask you this so much," he said. He spoke hesitantly, almost like he needed to force the words out to be able to say them at all, and I could hear a subtle tension emerging into his voice that he clearly tried to suppress. "It's like I don't even know who you are anymore."

My heart jolted firmly, snatching my breath for just a moment from the alarming statement. "What are you talking about?" I asked him.

Digby seemed to hear the worry in my voice and instantly somewhat backed away from his words as he tried to explain himself. "No, you know what I mean," he pressed, sounding almost to be in a defensive manner. "It's just that you're not around anymore. I'm stuck here and you're... wherever you are. It's hard to picture who you might become when I don't get to see it anymore because you're growing up so far away from me."

The knots in my stomach were gradually loosening again with the solid explanation. "But I haven't changed," I told him. "And I know that there's some distance between us, but that doesn't mean it has to be a bad thing. Just look at everything that has come from it. All you have to do is search for the bright side of the situation and it'll make everything a little better."

There was a sharp exhale on the other line that I wasn't quite sure was a sigh or a pained laugh. "Well, I guess nothing really has changed," Digby muttered.

"What do you mean?" I inquired.

"You're always so consistently positive and know just how to lift yourself up whenever you're not. I could never figure out how you did it," Digby explained. "Somehow, you always managed to drive away the darkness with the light that you carry with you every day. It used to give me a lot of hope and strength to find my own light. I was inspired by the way you could find it so easily." A pause cut through his sentences, silencing him for a few seconds as he searched for the right words before resuming no louder than a mumble. "But now you're gone... And I can't seem to lose the darkness."

I didn't have an answer. A sunken feeling in my gut left my stomach seeming hollow like an empty void and my gaze strayed along the line where the floor met the wall a few yards from my feet. I could still hear the faint rumble of distant conversation on the other line as Digby waited for my response, one that would not come, and only then was I aware that I had never felt so alone.

By the time Digby spoke again after a lengthy pause, his tone had taken a dramatic shift. "No. Forget it. That was stupid," he grumbled, completely withdrawing his entire statement in a matter of moments. It was almost the same thing he had done earlier, after he had shocked me with his confession. "Just forget that I said that, okay? It doesn't matter."

"Digby," I said gently.

"Forget it," Digby repeated irritably. For a moment, he had nothing more to say, but he gave a sigh before trying again in a calmer tone. "Look, I'm really busy right now. I appreciate that you decided to call, but I can't talk much longer. I'm going to have to get off the phone and return to work now. One last thing before I go, though, please."

I knew exactly what was coming. It hardly took a thought to realize that he was about to ask a question he had asked every time we talked for the past months. A slight scowl found its way to my face from the repetition of the inquiry, waiting and bracing myself for the anticipated words, but it wasn't what I expected.

"I love you, Isabelle," Digby told me. "I hope you find your stars."

With the final reference to our parents' frequently used saying of counting the stars, Digby had hung up the phone before I even had the chance to open my mouth to respond. It happened so abruptly that I wasn't quite sure how to react, leaving the phone tucked under my floppy ear as I ran through the conversation in my mind. The words I had heard still darted through my mind even after the call was cut off, struggling to set in what had been said.

And what hadn't been said.

The opening of autumn always arrived with a sweep of beauty. A drastic change of theme fell over the land like a blanket, dipping leaves concealing the trees in a dull yellow color like the branches had been submerged in pure sunlight as the days flew by. The weeks seemed to bleed into each other, starting and ending in a repetitive yet inevitable routine, and before I knew it, August had disappeared to make way for September.

However, nearly a week after he had made his reappearance, Redd vanished from the streets again before I even had the chance to say goodbye or wish him well on his journey. There was no warning; one day, he was standing with his cart on the side of the road like any other day, and the next, he was already gone. As it was not the first time this had happened, I found that I treated the situation more gently, resolving to wait for his anticipated return to the town sometime in the future. After all, I knew he would always come back at some point, so what was there to fear?

Despite Redd's abrupt absence, there was an aspect to the scenario that was not quite similar to how it had played out before. This time, I made a promise to myself not to let myself fall back into the patterns of loneliness and social isolation that I had trapped myself in the last time he had left. Genuine connection never came with haste, and so I was patient with myself and my abilities of interaction. The final weeks of August found me starting new habits of leaving my house more frequently, carefully building up my social skills through gatherings such as the one I had attended at the beginning of the month and general communication until I gradually began to feel more comfortable in casual conversation. My efforts earned me friendly acquaintances with a number of animals living around me, but as August came to an end, I was left with no proper friends.

The breakthrough from August into September left me at a deeply emotionally healthy and pleasant point in my life. Every bit of stress that had hung over me through the months of June and July appeared to have since died out, replacing itself with a warm little glow of delight throughout my days. Not only that, but with the kindness and patience towards myself that I was learning, I could finally say that after the troubling events I'd been through in the past few months, I was finally starting to heal. And because of this, I decided that it was time to let go of my search for work; it was clear to see that the main source of the anxiety I had been put through was the pressure to find a job both from the lack of money and from Digby's persistence, therefore it was best to drop the plan entirely and live the most out of each day without it.

The beginning of September brought the first stroke of cool breezes. A chill wrapped around the land like a bitter blanket, leaving a bleak atmosphere that easily sent shivers through me. Soon enough, the time had come to begin stocking up on warmer clothes, and so as the days grew colder, I proceeded to wrap myself in sweaters and longer pants for the change in season. The wonders of the autumn season had finally begun, and I was greatly looking forward to it.

And so, with the excitement of the changing seasons, I was at the happiest I'd ever been since I had begun my journey. Every day into the new month was lived comfortably and casually, gradually falling into the relaxation of an ideal life. Somewhere along the first few days, I had run through the consideration of contacting Lottie in some way for her twentieth birthday on the 12th, but with the simplicity of the life I had and the lack of connection with the world outside of my little town, the idea eventually dissolved forgotten in the back of my mind and I carried on like usual.

Even though I was in the best emotional place I had found myself in in many months, I knew better than to believe there was ever such a thing as a perfect life. Somebody could have it all and still catch a certain longing or wish from time to time. At the opening of the month of September, I found that I thought frequently back to my friendship with Digby and the distance between us. Sometimes, I worried that the tension between us was lasting with the frequent absence of communication over a number of weeks, ever so slowly breaking our bond apart beyond repair. Given the chance, I wouldn't have refused to take the steps to fix our relationship, and yet I had concerns that trying to send him another call would only lead us to further setbacks as tension rose. Instead, I waited for word from him in case he wished the same; when I heard nothing from him, I let that idea slip from my mind as well.

It wasn't until the middle of the month that I managed to catch sight of Redd once again. It was a particularly brisk afternoon that called for a royal purple sweater that I had bought a couple of weeks earlier, leaving me snug and warm as I spent the midday out and about in the town. I had recently been trying to get out of the house more frequently, and therefore had made the decision to try out a seafood restaurant at the side of the beach nearly a ten minutes' walk from my house that I heard of weeks before and was always tempted to check out.

The outside seating of the restaurant was set up on a wide balcony-type surface looking over the beach that stretched across the lower ground with endless sand. Chilly, biting puffs of wind rolled across the space as I emerged onto the balcony from the path that led out from the road, leaving me to tuck my paws up into the long sleeves of my sweater to keep them warm. Per the instructions that I found on a sign propped up at the entrance, I ventured forward into the space to find my own seat only to discover that I had a number of options laid out for me.

It was easy to tell that the majority of the animals in the town would have rathered to stay indoors on a cold day such as this one, with the emptiness that inhabited most of the tables scattered around the area. With my wide variety of choices provided for me, I claimed a table right beside the barrier of the balcony, plopping down into a seat to face the road with the dazzling view of the sea directly on my left.

The water sparkled elegantly under the pale blue sky, waves tumbling and crashing over each other with each passing moment. A faint hint of saltiness lingered in the air, sifting through the space as I sat in the midst of it all. A gentle, yet biting breeze carried the subtle scent over the surface of the balcony, but I hardly gave it a thought as my gaze wandered over the beach. For a few moments, my eyes strayed over the glittering horizon, taking in the sights before picking up the menu in front of me left on the table.

Once I opened up the menu, I was able to find a generous variety of different seafood options across the few plastic pages, each one with a small chunk of text of explanation and some with example pictures. I allowed myself a few minutes to search through the pages, briefly running through the options presented to me, but just as I had finally made the decision to order the salmon dish did I catch the sound of a nearing voice addressing me.

"Morning, what what!" a cheerful voice grabbed my attention, and I raised my head from my menu to find a black and red dog approaching my table with a server's apron, a sassy smile, and thick, stylish eyelashes that easily brought out the turquoise color of her eyes. "What can I do for you today?"

"Good morning!" I replied, offering a smile in return as I carefully shut my menu. "I'll just have the salmon, please."

"Gotcha. Is there anything else I can get for you?" the dog asked, coming to a stop beside the table.

"Nope," I said. "I think that's it. Thank you."

"Yeah, no problem," the dog answered brightly, reaching into the deep pocket at the front of her apron and withdrawing a small notepad and a pen. For a few seconds, she scribbled hastily onto the empty page before tucking the notepad under her arm and outstretching her free paw towards me. "I can take your menu, if you want."

"Thank you," I said again, reaching out my closed menu for her to take. The dog seized the menu from my grasp, flashed me another upbeat smile, and took off to leave the table again, leaving me in my thoughts as I had been before.

In the absence of conversation, my focus circled back to the sea. As the tranquil quietness still settled in the atmosphere as the minutes crept by, thoughts I had done well to suppress in the opening of the new month had begun to resurface, effortlessly whirring through my mind as there was nothing much to distract me. For whatever reason, I found it difficult especially recently to keep myself from recalling my life back home, the life I had left behind so many months ago. There must have been quite a few changes occurring with the gradual drop in temperatures as the year slowly dragged itself towards its end, but they were changes that I wouldn't get to see.

It was the first autumn and winter season that I had spent away from home, since I had left back in mid-March, and this was an intimidating idea to consider. I had never anticipated that half a year after my departure would find me so far distanced socially from the animals that had inspired me to leave in the first place. I hadn't reached out to Lottie in several weeks and couldn't even remember the last time I had spoken with my parents, but my main concern was for Digby. A friendship like ours was meant to be something strong and lasting, though what we had now was neither of the two. Despite not hearing from him for such an extensive period of time, I was still a bit tense with the idea that our bond was too stiff to be restored and I ached to return to where we had been before I had left at all, but if he didn't clearly wish the same, then there was nothing I could do.

I was able to bury these uneasy thoughts for almost a minute when the dog I had spoken with earlier returned with my meal. The meal arrived only about ten minutes after I had ordered it and came in neat slices, lightly dusted with seasoning. Even though I had just run through a few stomach-turning thoughts, my mouth watered at the sight of it. The first few minutes of the meal were uneventful for the most part, leaving me to work through the food in front of me with my fork and knife and gradually began to clear more space on the plate in peace, but this didn't last for much longer.

I had cleared out almost half of the fish on my plate when I caught sight of a familiar face, one that had been absent for many weeks until this moment. On a casual sweep over the area, my gaze had first bounced to the banner hanging over the cart since the dark blue colors easily stood out against the casual scenery as the cart was pushed along the path by a friend none other than Redd. He was too far away to see me, of course-- he was walking as far as the path that ran along the rim of the restaurant and didn't seem to have any intention of stopping here-- but my heart gave an evident leap to see him there at all so suddenly.

"Redd!" I raised my voice to call to him. I wasn't completely sure that he would have been able to hear me from where I was sitting, yet I tried to bring his attention over anyway.

I must have shouted loud enough because it was clear that he had heard something. I watched him tug the cart to a stop in the middle of the path before he raised his head, glancing around to scan the area for who had called his name, and didn't appear to have any luck with spotting me.

"Redd!!" I yelled again, raising my paw to begin eagerly waving to him and make my presence evident. A few animals had turned their heads to look over at my table from the noise I was making, but I ignored this. "Over here! Hello!"

It was only then that Redd seemed to realize that I was there, offering a brief wave and a smile in return before hastily resuming to push his cart and quickly disappearing from sight again. I dropped my paw back to my lap, at first unsure why he had left again so soon, before the thought occurred to me that he was most likely finding a secure place to park his cart.

Sure enough, just a short time after Redd had vanished, I managed to catch sight of him emerging onto the balcony where I sat and striding towards my table near the edge to greet me. "Hi!" I said cheerfully as he approached.

"Hey there!" Redd replied, giving his usual confident grin as he came to a stop in front of my table.

"How have you been?" I asked him.

"Not bad. I've just been working and stuff," Redd explained with an indifferent shrug in response. "What about you?"

"Pretty good. I have no complaints," I told him, and put on another smile as I gestured to the open seat on the other side of the table. "You should come sit for a while!"

"Sure, sounds like fun!" Redd replied, stepping to lower himself into the seat I had invited him to take. Once he had seated himself, I picked up my silverware again to continue my meal, but before I had the chance to take another bite, a realization flickered to attention that pulled my focus back to Redd.

"Oh, would you like to get a menu?" I inquired, observing the empty table space in front of Redd while I had a plate of food.

"Sure, I'd like that," Redd told me.

"Okay. I'll ask the server once they come back around," I offered.

"Great," Redd replied with a nod of acknowledgment. "Sounds good."

As the conversation progressed further, I couldn't help but sense the unpleasant thoughts I had tried to push away slowly creeping back into my headspace, looming over my mind as I attempted to divert my path of thinking another time. I forced another smile onto my face to mask the tension pinching my gut and instead changed the subject.

"What are you thinking of ordering?" I asked. "Do you usually have a preference?"

"Not really," Redd admitted. "I just order whatever sounds good."

"I get it. That's what I usually do, as well," I replied. "I'm glad you were able to come sit, by the way. I'm happy to spend this time with you."

Something about this statement easily brought another smile to Redd's face. "Well, that's a very nice thing to say," he said. "I'm happy to spend time with you, too."

"I'm glad!" I said, but it was evident that he was no longer listening as intently as he had been earlier as his eyes darted to glance away from the table as something grabbed his focus. I turned my gaze as well to check what he was watching and discovered that the black and red dog I had spoken with earlier was making her way across the balcony to reach the table again, perhaps after having noticed that I now had company.

"Everything okay over here?" the dog asked, stepping up to the table to address Redd and me.

"Yeah, any chance I could get a menu or something?" Redd replied nonchalantly. It wasn't difficult to tell the impolite phrasing of the words, though he spoke in a calm manner, but I figured that it might not have been the best moment to mention it. So, I held my tongue.

However, the dog didn't seem to mind. "Yeah, you bet," she answered, as perky as usual, and took her leave from the table to retrieve a menu for Redd.

The meal went on in silence. As Redd kept an eye on the area around us to wait for a menu to be brought, I worked through what remained of my fish without anything more to say. With no conversation to keep my mind busy, my thoughts were already crawling back to the territory they had seen just minutes before, piecing themselves apart for my deep consideration. The longer that I took the time to contemplate the situation, the more it was made out to be nothing but a losing battle. If I lacked the motivation to even try to reach out more than a few times a month, what was to say that Digby would listen to me at all, considering the history of our past calls? If anything about the entire situation was clear, it was that I did not have the faintest clue what to do next and needed all the help I could get. But wait, I realized once these thoughts had cycled through, setting down my silverware as the answer finally clicked. Now I've got help right in front of me.

"Redd, can I ask you something?" I said, and he quickly returned his focus to me to show that he was listening.

"Yeah, what's up?" Redd asked kindly.

"I've actually been thinking about something for a while, and I would like to get your advice, if I may," I explained.

"Sure, anything," Redd replied.

"If a..." I began, but my words were cut abruptly short as the sudden arrival of the server dog at the table again with a menu tucked under her arm snatched my focus as I looked up at her.

"Here you go," the dog said politely, withdrawing the menu from under her arm and setting it down on the table in front of Redd before retreating back a few steps to examine us both. "Anything else I can get for you guys?"

"No, we're fine," Redd answered for me.

"Awesome," the dog replied, giving a nod of acknowledgment before departing from the table again. Redd picked up his menu from the table but didn't open it, instead watched me carefully to wait for me to begin speaking again. I took a pause to reevaluate how I wanted to begin before I allowed myself to continue.

"Say there's a friend that I used to be very close with, but now we're drifting apart quite a bit," I said. "I really want to make things right, but I just don't know how, and it doesn't seem like he wants the same. What would you do in this situation?"

"Hmm, that's a tough one," Redd mumbled thoughtfully, quieting for a few seconds as he pondered this before he found his answer. "Well, if that friendship is something you really want, I'd say go for it. Nobody can take it away from you if that's what you really want. If you let it go to waste, it means it wasn't all that important to you." Redd paused for a moment in his explanation, and then his gaze went still towards me in a questioning glance. "Just to make sure, I'm not the friend you're talking about, right?"

"Oh, no, of course it's not you," I assured him. In all honesty, I could hardly even picture what it would have been like to have been drifting from Redd, considering how close our friendship was already. "And... Thank you for your advice. I'll try to reach out to him today."

I said I would do it. As soon as the words had left me, I knew I had just made a promise to myself to take the first step. The words exchanged in the conversation with Redd continued to spiral through my mind even after the meal had ended and I had left for home, and now they echoed still as I sat on the edge of my bed next to the phone.

It had been almost an hour since I had said goodbye to Redd for the day, though his words were no less burned into my memory as I stared blankly at the phone on the receiver, well within reach but sat untouched. If Digby was not going to try for communication, then it was up to me to take the first steps to fix whatever connection we had left. And yet, even while this acknowledgment settled in my mind, my paw was reluctant to reach over and pick up the phone. There were crucial things to be said, but after waiting so long to say them, was there even any point left?

Well, better late than never, I thought to myself, at last outstretching my paw and plucking the phone from the receiver. If I really wanted something to change, then I had to make the first move, no matter how unsettling it was. The knots in my stomach were already forcing a twinge of discomfort in my gut as I tucked the phone under my floppy ear, punched in the numbers to reach Happy Home, and then waited.

I could do nothing but listen as the phone continued to ring out a few times on the other line, but just after the third ring had been cut off was the phone finally picked up, though not by Digby.

"Happy Home Designer, this is Lottie," I could hear Lottie respond politely a few moments after the phone had been answered.

The tension in my gut managed to ease slightly at the familiar sound of Lottie's voice. "Oh, hey, Lottie," I greeted her. "It's Isabelle."

"Good afternoon, Isabelle! I haven't heard from you in a while," Lottie remarked, her tone seeming to brighten once she heard that it was me on the phone. At least somebody looked forward to my calls. "Have you been well?"

"I'm okay. There isn't really anything to tell," I admitted. "What about you? You just had your twentieth birthday recently, didn't you? How was that?"

"It was great. I had a wonderful time. Digby even baked me a cake and brought it in for the lunch break. It was really such a sweet thing for him to do," Lottie explained happily. "Oh, speaking of Digby, would you like to speak to him? He's just across the room. I can call him over to the phone if you'd like."

"That would be great. Thank you," I replied. I could already see the awkward and tense conversation I would be having with Digby from a mile away, but now I had something important that needed to be said.

"Of course. I'll call him over," Lottie said again before the faint rustling on the other line implied she had removed the phone from her ear, though I could still hear her calls to my brother across the room. "Digby! There's a call for you."

A few seconds' pause slipped through on the other line as Digby must have been giving his response, one that was inaudible to my own ears. "Yes, it's Isabelle. She'd like to speak with you," Lottie told him.

This time, I was able to catch the sound of a brief answer from Digby as he approached the phone, but what he said, I couldn't quite tell. Whatever he had said, it was clear that it didn't sit right with Lottie as she hurried to reply. "Oh, please don't be rude, Diggy... um, Digby," Lottie rushed into her words, accidentally stumbling over them as she did so. "I'm sure she has something important to say to you."

Silence fell for a few more seconds after Lottie had gone quiet again, lasting only momentarily before a new voice began to speak into the phone, one that I could easily recognize as Digby's in a mildly frustrated tone.

"Isabelle?" Digby prompted. It wasn't even a hello or a good afternoon, just Isabelle. That was already not the best sign that I would have much luck with trying to regain our friendship.

"Hey, Digby," I said hesitantly, drawing my legs up closer to me to crisscross them on the bed in a more comfortable seat. "I can tell that you probably don't really want to talk to me right now, but there's something I'd like to talk about."

"Can it wait? Is that possible? You know how busy I am during the day," Digby reminded me. Despite the slight frustration in his tone, I could tell that he was trying to keep his voice level and patient. Maybe I could work with that.

"Actually, I want to talk about it now, if you have time," I told him. Even now, I was sure that if we didn't talk about it today, it would never be brought up again.

"I've got customers to tend to, Isabelle. I don't have as much spare time as you'd like me to have," Digby explained.

"I know you're busy, but this is something really important," I urged. "I don't want to leave this call until we talk about it."

And that was all it took. One moment, Digby was able to keep himself calm, and the next, he had snapped. "Okay, well, why don't we talk about the fact that you won't stop calling me while I'm trying to work and will never give me enough space to step away and find time to talk to you?" he retorted, his voice surrendering to a sharpness I had hardly ever heard from him before. "Seriously, can you please get off my back?"

I had no words. My voice was snatched from me in a single moment at what had just been said to me, my mouth dropping open in utter shock. Nobody spoke as several seconds crept by, leaving the atmosphere thin and tense, before Digby finally brought himself to speak again.

"I'm sorry," Digby mumbled. He had fallen back into his calm demeanor once again, but this time, I could hear the guilt that weighed down his words. "That was a lot more harsh than I meant it to be. I didn't mean for it to all come out at once like that. I would just really appreciate it if you would... Huh?"

Digby's voice quieted abruptly in his last word as he brought the phone away from his ear. For a few moments, I was able to catch the sound of incomprehensible voices that were most likely directed at Digby before he spoke again, but not to me.

"Oh. Of course, Mr. Lyle," Digby said, his voice still distanced from the phone. This was closely followed by a muffled sound, presumably as the phone was passed over, before the next voice to speak into the phone was the soft, rough voice of Lottie's uncle Lyle.

"Good afternoon, Isabelle. It's nice to speak with you again," Lyle greeted me. I had heard his voice infrequently in my puppyhood, only those few times a year when my family visited Lottie's family, and yet I recognized it instantly. "Is Digby being mean to you?"

"No, not really," I replied. He had most definitely said a few things that weren't the most polite, but he wasn't necessarily being outright mean.

"Ah, well, I think you should be patient with him," Lyle told me. "He's, uh... He's not doing too well right now."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Is he sick?"

Lyle's response to this question was hesitant and almost reluctant, though I couldn't see why. "It's really a complicated thing, you know," he said once he had found his words. "If Digby wanted you to know, I'm sure he would have told you about it."

"I don't understand," I admitted.

"I think things are just a little heavy for him right now, especially with you being so far away and the stress he feels over his work. It's easy to tell that all he really wants is to be able to stay positive, but sometimes his thoughts that are a bit darker get the best of him," Lyle explained, his voice dropping to almost a murmur as he spoke of the dismal topic. "And with that, I feel that it's best if we all get back to work over here. I hope to talk to you again soon, Isabelle."

. . .

The conversation came and went through my thoughts as the weeks continued to slip by, easily forgotten in the back of my mind for the most part, except for Lyle's words that burned through my memory. For the passing days after the conversation had taken place, I still couldn't grasp what he was talking about or what was happening with Digby; all I knew was that something was very wrong. And so, taking his needs that I already knew of into consideration, I made the decision of what was best for me to do to help him.

I gave him space. After all, that was exactly what he had asked of me the last time I had spoken with him. I made the choice not to call him anymore and would instead wait for him to come to me. September eventually came to a close with no word from him, and the opening of October held no news either. I had let go of the need to rely on him in some way, leaving the phone to sit untouched for weeks on end, and just like that, October was replaced by the brisk month of November.

Just because Digby was temporarily gone from my life didn't mean that he was gone from my thoughts. As November inched by, I spent countless thoughts wondering what life was like for him, now that winter was on its way. Missing winter at my old home was going to mean missing our birthday, a special day shared between us of growing older and celebrating another year; if anything, I was starting to understand why Digby had been so upset about growing up so far away from each other. As the temperature steadily fell into an icy range, I couldn't help but think back to a time when his joyful attitude could warm my heart on any chilly morning, something that I might not get to feel for a long time. So much had changed from when I had begun my journey. But then again, good things only came with change.

Lonely for Digby's presence might have been November's curse, but the month also brought blessings I had never anticipated when I first set out for work. Every period of time that Redd spent visiting the town throughout the final months of the year further deepened our friendship, and thus deepened my fondness for him. The visits counted by and it wasn't long before we had begun to fall into a sort of pattern, spending more and more time in each other's presence until we were together every day that he was in town and wholeheartedly enjoying the company. Even while he was away, I anxiously awaited his return so that we could start again like nothing had changed. I could hardly even remember a connection I was so attached to as this.

It was almost like he had become a part of me, like I wasn't quite complete when he was gone. He was so different than any other animal I'd ever met before, and something about that fact was so fascinating and intriguing in a way I couldn't clearly describe. Something about him just brought about a sort of warmth of comfort within me like I was under his protection and would always be looked after and cared for. We had become so effortlessly close that it had become difficult to process that there had once been a time when I had felt so nervous by the idea of him. He must have been my closest and most cherished friend, and in time, he had taken Digby's place as my best one.

The first snowfall arrived at the end of the month, falling over the land in the depths of the night and leaving a clean, fresh blanket of snow once I awoke in the morning. The new snow brought the frigid temperatures and the cloudy nights, but I had nothing against it. Every time the snow fell over the town and drowned it in a white sea, I had no other choice but to think of Redd; the snow had begun as a constant background to our lighthearted visits, and so whenever it reached the town again, I sank into that all-familiar wonder of when I would see him next. And just like that, with every day spent with Redd to pile up into my memories, Digby was left in the past.

That was when December rolled around, otherwise known as my birthday month, the month where I would be turning eighteen years old. As soon as the month began, it was most definitely safe to say that I was at the happiest point since I could remember. I was finally as close with someone as I had once been with Digby, the community in the town was gradually developing into something more acquainted and strongly held together with the colder season, and the days were counting down until my birthday on the twentieth. The weeks slowly climbed up closer to the special day, each one seeming to last a lifetime as I waited with anticipation, but this was the time that my thoughts frequently strayed back to Digby. After all, it would be his birthday as well, and I could only wonder what the day would look like with such distance between us.

The idea of calling him again didn't enter my mind until nearly the middle of the month, still several days before the twentieth. I had stopped talking to him back in September in order to give him some space, but perhaps it was time to check up on him again. It was a particularly good day for me, locked up inside of my house from a building snowstorm sweeping over the town but kept all warm and toasty from the crackling fireplace in the comfort of my bedroom, and so I easily took the idea when it struck.

I could hear the snapping of the fire in the fireplace and the harsh winds shrieking past the windows as I lowered myself into a seat on the edge of the bed, reaching out and snagging the phone from the receiver on the table to send out a call to Happy Home. I even allowed a little smile at the lighthearted conversation ready to leave my tongue as I dialed the number that lingered in my memory and tucked the phone under my ear to wait for an answer.

When the phone rang out once on the other line, it didn't disrupt my patience. I still wasn't bothered when the phone rang out twice, even three times. Only when the fourth ring had returned to silence that Lottie's voice burst into sound to greet me. At first, my heart soared at the sound, but my words were snatched from me again once I realized what the voice was saying.

"You've reached the voicemail for the Happy Home Designer and Academy. There is currently no one around to answer your call, but if you leave a message, we'll get back to you as soon as possible," the voice went on.

What? It was no later than ten-thirty in the morning, surely someone would have been there to pick up the phone. I hastily began to dial the number again, deciding on the possibility that somebody had just not gotten there in time, and waited once again as the phone rang out.

As soon as the phone rang out more than twice, I knew that it was never going to happen. Sure enough, the same voicemail message began to drone on a second time at the end of the fourth ring, but I had already dropped my focus from the sound. A dull, void-like sensation was clawing through me as I listened blankly and the truth began to sink in. Somehow, for some completely unknown reason, I had stopped getting through to Happy Home and to Digby. I had finally lost connection after trying so hard for him.

At that moment, I had never been farther from him.