Lottie's Point of View

"I just got off the phone with Niko," I declared, striding into the conference room with my arms wound around my project notes folder as the door swung shut after me. Digby and Uncle Lyle sat in their respective places at the table, their eyes following me as I crossed the room, clicking my way to the table to join them. "I'm happy to announce that it's all good news. Fantastic news, actually."

"I've got some pretty good news, too," Uncle Lyle replied as I scooted out the chair next to Digby and lowered myself into a seat. "Please tell us yours first, though."

"Thank you." I plopped my folder down onto the table and politely folded my paws on top of it. "Niko called me back this morning while I was preparing for this meeting. He had done a bit of research about this company and agreed to share the required details and addresses to ship out my work. I plan to get everything in regards to my work sent out by this afternoon and my belongings closer to the day of."

"Oh, speaking of which," Digby abruptly interjected, drawing all of the attention in the room. "Do you have a set date for the launch yet?"

"Yes, I do," I announced. "I plan to leave on the morning of November fifth. I believe that'll allow us plenty of time to finish the developmental stage."

Digby nodded slightly in acknowledgment, shifting in his seat to glance over at my uncle as if to relay the message to him through his eyes. When neither of them seemed to have any kind of verbal response, I went on.

"Additionally, both the office and my home have already been fully prepped," I explained. "Niko and his family have already moved in furniture and tended to everything as such. Having those spaces already ready for us helps immensely to ship all of those boxes out. And now, since that part of production is all finished, it's about time to begin hosting interviews to hire an assistant. That's what I was working on when Niko called me. I've completed, finalized, and released the form on our website."

"That's great news," Digby said brightly. "So that part's all done, then, right? You're going to collect the applications and begin interviews?"

"That's right," I agreed. "I haven't checked the number of submissions since I first posted it, but I'm sure we at least have a few already. I have plans to begin interviewing on the eleventh, so I'll need to adjust my current schedule accordingly. If all goes well, I'll have some promising candidates by the time I turn twenty-eight next month and have more than a month remaining for final decisions and finishing touches."

"Oh, if I may," Uncle Lyle spoke up from across the table before I could have had the chance to continue. "When you said finishing touches, it reminded me. I thought of something that I've been meaning to bring up to you. I think it would be a good idea to design an official uniform for HHP like we do here at the HHDA."

"I didn't even think about that," I admitted. "Now that you mention it, that's a great idea. I'll create and submit a design before the end of the month. I'll also have to call Niko back to get his shirt size as well as those for his family if they want any."

"Do you have any initial ideas?" Digby inquired from beside me. "I'm pretty sure that every little thing about it has to be carefully considered, from the color to the patterns."

"Not anything distinct," I said. "I like the eye-drawing feature of Happy Home's signature red, a very commanding and powerful piece that shows that we're ready for anything, but if I go with that, it might be best to tone it down a little to gather more of the relaxed vibe. As for the patterns, I need to spend more thought on it. I'd like to have various designs speaking to the paradise theme, but I need it to absolutely capture that feel. It's only August first, so having that design by the end of the month won't be a problem. I'm always welcome to ideas, though."

"You know, this is so weird to think about," Digby remarked, setting his back against the back of his chair to thoughtfully fold his arms. "There are so many changes happening right now. It's a little strange to consider. A little stressful, of course, but just strange. It's almost hard to keep them all straight. It's like we're moving into an entirely different era of the HHDA."

"Precisely the reason why I've decided to retire," Uncle Lyle agreed.

My mouth dropped open before I had even fully processed the weight of the sentence, my paw flying to cover it as Digby kept speaking.

"I mean, yeah, it's just like—" Digby began, his voice sharply cutting off as he also realized what had been said and turned his face to stare blankly at my uncle across from him. "What?"

"Well, I just thought it was getting to be about that time, you know?" Uncle Lyle said as I slowly lowered my paw again and numbly hung from every word. "I'm almost seventy years old. I'm exhausted. I don't want to spend the last good years of my life working. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Digby mumbled, almost in a distracted or helpless fashion, quietly glancing between him and me as if waiting to be told this was all a joke. But this was news to me, too.

"Good," Uncle Lyle said. "That being said, we really should talk about what that means for this company. I'm still going to be sticking around for a bit to help how I can with HHP and so that I don't suddenly leave you both defenseless. My last day is going to be October twenty-fourth. It's a Sunday and about two weeks before you leave, Lottie. This building will still be under my name, but Lottie will assume the main position of power. From now on, I'm going to spend the majority of my time closing out my work and packing everything up, similar to what Lottie's doing."

I blinked, silently running the message through my mind. I came into the office this morning with intentions to await Niko's call and prepare the application forms and now here I stood, soon to be the leader of the HHDA. Was any of this real? Was there any sort of chance I was still dreaming? How was it that I accepted one solo project, I suddenly accepted them all? What was going on?

"Wait, wait a second," Digby cut in, slicing down my train of thought. "Actually, no, that doesn't really make sense, to be honest. You're leaving on October twenty-fourth and Lottie is leaving two weeks later. Who's looking after the business here? We're not closing, are we?"

"No, I don't plan to close this building," Uncle Lyle told him, leaning forward to fold his paws together on the table. "I think you forget that there are three designers here at the HHDA."

Digby's thick eyebrows had begun to creep together, completely baffled by what he was being told, and then the answer appeared to strike him. An expression of utter shock immediately unraveled on his face, maybe even a touch of displeasure, as he sat up in his chair to face him.

"Shut up," he pressed.

"Digby!" I exclaimed.

"No. I'm sorry. It's just..." Digby was stumbling over his words, struggling to find the right ones. It seemed as though Uncle Lyle had either expected this kind of reaction or wasn't surprised as he continued to calmly observe him with his paws still folded on the table. "Can I be upfront with you for a second?"

"Always," Uncle Lyle replied.

"To be completely honest, I think that's a terrible move," Digby told him. "I can't look after this entire building by myself. I barely know half the stuff that goes on around here. The way it all comes together and everything. I'm not even that great at my own work. I just can't see what I did or said that could have given you such high expectations of me."

"In that case, I appreciate your honesty," Uncle Lyle said. "However, I disagree with pretty much everything you just said. For someone who's been here for almost nine years, you seem to hold a very low opinion of yourself and your understanding. I think you know more and you're better at what you do than what you give yourself credit for."

I easily agreed that it was true, but I didn't dare speak.

"But if I'm correct, your distress lies in the thought that I'm going to put you in charge with only the training you have now," Uncle Lyle went on. "I'm not going to do that. This is only while Lottie is gone, anyway. For the last weeks that I'm here, I'm going to work with you on expanding your training and helping you feel comfortable with this kind of adjustment of responsibility. You won't have to do literally everything that gets done around here between the three of us. We're going to work together on a bit of a different schedule for you to hone in on what you prioritize most. You'll get there soon enough."

"No, that's not— What—" Digby protested, tossing up his paws and glancing incredulously between my uncle and me. "Have we all just miraculously forgotten about the damage I caused to this company years ago? Do we really want to put me in charge after that?"

It wasn't exactly an easy thing to forget. During the lengthy period of time when Digby had been in contact with Isabelle over the phone, he had begun to feel increasingly mistreated by her to the point where he reset the phones to silence and delete incoming voicemails. It was a silly problem on paper, but the single event unleashed and spread a forest fire of misinformation, miscommunication, and defamation. The three of us had been a month or two away from a total shutdown before the problem was discovered. The issue was far behind us now, but it was burned into my brain until the day I would take my last breath.

"Okay, well, here's the thing about that," Uncle Lyle replied calmly. "Like you said, that was years ago. Six years ago, Digby. We're all well aware that it was an accident and you learned your lesson. I trust that you won't make that mistake again. You've changed a lot since then. Surely you agree. I hear you saying that you can't possibly hold yourself to such a responsibility, but I'd like to remind you that I was only about five and a half years older than you are now when I first opened up this building completely by myself. If I could do it, so can you. Personally, I think you'd do great in this position."

Clearly, Digby didn't agree. He sat in silence, pressing a fist to his forehead with his expression tight in frustration. The rhythmic ticking of the clock filled the silence. After several seconds, Uncle Lyle spoke again.

"Moving on," he said. "Lottie, when are you starting interviews again?"

"August eleventh," I answered hesitantly. For whatever reason, my stomach had begun to cramp with nauseous anxiety. "Nine o'clock sharp."

Happy Homeroom was set to a hold as I reserved the lobby for a secluded space for interviews while Digby and Uncle Lyle prepared for the upcoming changes of schedule. I slapped a written note onto the door and rearranged the chairs in the room, leaving two inside and the rest lined up in the hallway outside for waiting. I faced the two chairs together in the middle of the room for interviews and monitored the number of submitted applications online. After becoming twelve after the meeting following its initial release, that number rose increasingly more rapidly and turned into one hundred and fifty seven by the time that the interview period crept in.

I had seven interviews scheduled today—Hardly a dent in the number that waited for me, but there were only so many hours in my shift. The first was a nine fifteen, a nineteen year old applicant named Neo. I barely had the time to settle in before he would be popping up to talk to me. I only glanced at the sign taped to the door as I twisted the doorknob and let myself into the room, my free arm wrapped around my notes folder as I carried it inside against my chest. Luminous, almost harsh white lights peered down onto a gray marble floor and the double white folding chairs that sat facing each other in the center. I quietly shut the door after me and lowered myself into the seat positioned towards the door, shifting to get comfortable before I snuck a glance at the clock hung high on the wall to my left. Five after nine. I had some time to kill.

I cracked open my folder, first laying eyes on the sheet that rested on the top of my notes. It was the most recent addition, a set of questions I had scribbled down to ask the applicant to build the interview. My eyes slowly drifted down the page, etching the words into my memory and rehearsing them internally until I reached the last question. Of course I had to include Digby's suggestion from our last date, the personality-type question he had suggested to me as we lay beneath the stars. I silently scanned the question again as the memory surfaced.

"You should add a sort of personality-type question at the end or something," Digby suggested, turning to rest his head on his arm as he looked at me. "Something like 'what one item would you bring to a deserted island if you had to'? I think that really fits the theme and it can help you get to know someone by that question alone. I think so, anyway."

I gently closed the folder again, absentmindedly resting the top rim against my chin as I sank back into the whispered memory of the night. It must have been almost three weeks ago now. It had been such a special night. The simplicity of each other's company, the stars shimmering above us, the soft breezes sweeping across the grass, the tingling anticipation of each moment to come. It was right before everything changed and I had no idea.

A knock sounded on the other side of the door, yanking me out of my thoughts. I hadn't even been sitting here for a minute. Was the applicant really here already? I had only opened my mouth to call out to the visitor before the door was already swinging open, providing the entry for an orange-striped cat to poke his head in.

"Hi, sorry," he said politely. He was dressed in an all-white suit and seemed about the right age as my first appointment. It must have been him. At least, it was only a swelling suspicion until his next words. "I have a nine fifteen interview with Lottie. Should I just wait out here?"

"No need. We can begin now," I said, climbing up from my chair and outstretching my paw to shake his. "I'm Lottie. Are you Neo?"

"Yes, that's me," the cat replied, rushing to step into the room and firmly shaking my paw over the head of the chair as the door fell shut. "Sorry, I haven't done this before. I don't really know what I'm doing."

"That's all right. I'll walk you through it," I assured him, seating myself again and gesturing for him to do the same. "Please have a seat."

Neo sunk into the seat across from me as I set my folder down on my lap. He shifted in his seat to awkwardly glance around him as if the walls were about to close in on him before he turned his focus back to me with the slight flick of his tail.

"Thank you for joining me today, Neo," I greeted him, folding my paws together on top of my folder on my lap. "Do you have your application form with you?"

"Oh. Yes. Yes, I do." Neo ducked his head, fishing a messily-folded sheet of paper from his pocket. "I printed it out at home. I don't know if I was allowed to fold it, but I didn't really want to carry it."

"That's perfectly fine," I said, accepting the folded paper from his paw and straightening it out on top of my folder. "Do you happen to have a printed resume with you?"

"A resume?" Neo echoed blankly. I paused, waiting for some kind of clue that I would need to explain what a resume was, but he quickly shook his head. "No, I don't have that. Sorry about that."

"That's okay. We can make do without it," I replied. Reviewing a proper resume certainly would have offered the interview a productive boost, but doing this the basic way was manageable. "Why don't you start by telling me a little bit about yourself?"

"Oh. Um, okay." Neo shifted awkwardly in his seat again, hesitantly folding his paws together in his lap to perform professionalism. "Well, as you know, my name is Neo. I'm nineteen years old. I finished high school last year and plan to start college at the end of the month after taking a gap year. I'm really interested in interior design, but I'm not very good at it yet. I'm kinda new to this company but I did a little research about the history and services beforehand. I read a little bit about the design exhibits you have on show and I'm looking forward to learning about them. Anyway, all that to say, I've been hoping to get into a good, lasting career in design, both interior and exterior, and I was hoping that this opportunity could help me with that."

"Well, I think that's great," I told him. "Would you mind if I take a moment to glance over your application form?"

"Oh, no, yeah. Sure, go ahead," Neo replied, motioning for me to begin reading.

I glanced down at the paper between my paws and began to read. Across the minutes of quietly studying the written answers next to the typed questions—With Neo continuously assuming where I was in my reading and interrupting it to submit an extra tidbit of information based on where he thought I was—And gradually took in the information that was there from front to back. He had a high school diploma, no work or volunteer experience whatsoever, no references, and could only have worked between ten and four on weekdays. Given the workdays that would have been spent at my side turning into nine, ten hour shifts, it was a problem in itself. He also occasionally babysat his baby sister which, unfortunately, didn't help his case. It wasn't looking good, but I had to try.

"You applied for this job because you'd like to go into a career of interior design, correct?" I said, raising my head from the sheet.

"Yes, that's right," Neo replied, bobbing his head in a nod as the tip of his tail nervously wandered the air near his knee. "Well, that and exterior design, if I can."

"In that case, let me ask you something," I went on. "In your own words, why do you think you would be a good fit for this job?"

"I mean, I just think I would be really passionate about it," Neo explained. I nodded slightly as he spoke to prompt him to continue. "I am really passionate about it. I think I'd be able to work hard and do something I enjoy. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it absolutely does," I said, giving another nod. That was promising, at least. "I've noticed that you stated that you have no prior job experience, though. I'm a little bit concerned about that and the hours in which you're willing to work. While I appreciate and respect your ability to set professional boundaries, this will be a heavy full-time job with maybe eight to ten hours of work each day, including time for breaks. I'm initially looking for someone with plenty of experience in regards to long periods of work, the skill of designing, or ideally, both."

"Oh," Neo mumbled. "Does that... Does that mean I don't get the job?"

"Well, no, I didn't say that," I admitted. "I'm just letting you know what you will experience if and when I decide to hire you. There are more things to discuss that can help me get to know you better. Allow me to ask you something else. I understand you've never had a full-time job before, but what do you think your strengths would be in the workplace?"

"Well..." Neo's voice trailed off as he considered the question, fidgeting his paws together in his lap. "I mean, I don't give up easily. I can hold myself to specific tasks if I work hard enough. And I like to show up early to events just to make sure I'm not late."

"All right. And what about weaknesses?" I prompted.

"Uh... I don't really think I have any," Neo explained. "Not that I can think of, anyway. I don't really like working, which probably counts as a weakness, but I don't know anyone who does. And I also complain sometimes, I'll be honest about it."

"Thank you for your honesty, Neo," I said, biting back words of bafflement and instead speaking professionally. I didn't understand how someone could tell a future employer that they didn't enjoy working, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt, considering he had never had a formal job interview before. "One last question, if I may. If you were trapped on a deserted island with no food and no water, what one item would you choose to have with you?"

"Oh, that's kind of a weird one." Neo quietly contemplated this question for a few seconds before he gave a sort of half-hearted shrug. "I don't really know. Maybe my phone, I guess? I'd have some entertainment, at least."

"All right. Well, thank you for your time," I said, sneaking another glance back up at the clock. It was a hint before nine twenty. I still had a decent fifteen minutes before my next interview began, but there was no harm in starting early, considering I was already on a roll with questions. "I believe that's all I have for you today. I'll be in touch. Thank you for stopping by, Neo."

"Yes, of course." Neo leaped to his feet again as his tail continued to swish nervously behind him. "Is there anything else I can do before I go?"

"Would you please ask for the next animal in case they're here already?" I requested. "Just ask for the nine thirty-five interview."

"Yeah, sure," Neo replied with another short nod before he was already ducking through the doorway. I caught the start of his question asking someone when their interview was before the door slammed shut again in the act of him dropping it.

He was a pleasant individual, but I wouldn't have been offering him the job as my assistant. It wasn't his fault. He didn't quite know what he was doing. Hopefully, my next applicant would have had a bit more experience, a bit more knowledge on the subject. Maybe we could have had a more engaging conversation about the work or their individual work ethic.

I had barely even readjusted in my seat before the door swung open again with far more carelessness than the first time. The next visitor was a bird shorter in height tinged with midnight-blue feathers and dressed in a plain gray t-shirt. He was the same age as Neo, according to the application he had submitted, but was so drastically different as he marched into the room without so much as a word of hello.

"Good morning," I greeted him politely as the door swung shut behind him, but he didn't seem to be listening as he confidently ran the feathers on his wings over each other and swept his gaze across the room. "Are you—"

"Let's get this done," the bird declared arrogantly, though he appeared to be talking more to himself than he was to me. "I can already smell this big, juicy check."

Oh.

. . .

The preparation for Happy Home Paradise was arriving at a slow end, all except for the interviews. With the addresses to my office and house stored away on file, I had a place to go with the boxes stacked against the walls of the storage room and congesting what little floor space there was already. I labeled the boxes by permanent marker, called up a team of movers to get them packed away into a plane, and shipped them off to the new island to wait for me just days after the interviews began. My old work was officially gone, at least for now.

The efforts of packing up my work had begun to bleed into my home life, too. I began to look at my belongings with an eye of whether I wanted to bring them with me and proceeded with a spreading collection of items I planned to accompany myself with. Uncle Lyle would frown when he caught me setting aside belongings and joked for me to not work so hard to get away from home, but occasionally I wondered if the statements were rooted from some place of truth that he didn't want to reveal to me.

August inched onward, tugging the final departure date closer day by day. After spending an entire week of interviews and finding myself more and more beaten down and drained from the effort at the end of each day, I decided to adjust my schedule. I reserved weekdays for interviews and returned to my former routine on weekends—Studies at nine, lunch at noon, Open Advisory at twelve thirty, and then Happy Homeroom at three. Considering how long my work for Happy Home Paradise had dragged on, it was surprising how easily I picked up the old schedule again, leaping back to work without an ounce of struggle in adjusting. It wasn't anything more than an oh, right, this is what I was doing before.

I also dabbled in a collection of design ideas for my uniform. I was instantly drawn to the same home logo from the HHDA to prove its relevance and decided to incorporate it into the final product while experimenting with softer reds and different patterns. I sketched down potential markings and narrowed down my choices. I eventually stuck to the color of a light Persian red, noting the similarity from the original red and its toned-down appearance, and finalized the design shortly after with vertical rows of the designated logo, hibiscus flowers, and various line designs. I sent off the design with the order of a dress for me and a button-down shirt for Niko on the twenty-eighth of August. And suddenly—Way too suddenly, it seemed—The ability to leave home was right around the corner. I casually mentioned to Digby about how quickly the adventure was creeping up on us and didn't think anything of the conversation at the time, but I hadn't realized what was to come of it.

At least twenty five to thirty animals were present in Open Advisory as I entered the room the following afternoon of the twenty-ninth at twelve thirty. A few eyes turned my way as I clicked briskly across the room, so I gave them a polite smile that some returned before turning away. The volume in the room was particularly mellow today, only a rumble of conversation as if they had all simultaneously agreed to have a quiet afternoon. That was nice. When it was loud, the sounds jabbed my ears like needles until I escaped from the room to ease the tension. It was moments like these I never forgot to appreciate.

I drifted throughout the room as the clock ticked onward through the third hour. Most kept to themselves today, observing the exhibits lined across the wall with murmurs of acknowledgment. Some approached with questions. Somebody inquired about the date, another about how long I had been working here at the HHDA—Almost fourteen years, after a brief count based on how old I had been—And one even posed a curiosity of the reason why a couple of the exhibits were displayed with a name that belonged to none of the designers working here in this day and age. That question was more infrequent than I would have expected it to be, considering the name was right on a plate in plain sight, but it always twinged me with awkwardness. There was too much of a story behind the name than could have been expressed in a single smalltalk conversation.

The room radiated with positive energy today. I didn't know what it was or where it was coming from. The afternoon was progressing in the utmost relaxation, the lights were easy on the eyes, the volume was pleasant, and there were more smiles than usual. I discovered myself smiling as well, sending bright beams towards anyone whom I addressed or who addressed me. Yep. It was a good day.

The mild volume in the room allowed me to catch the ringing of the phone. I first stole a glance up at the clock hung from the wall, surprising myself to find it already two o'clock. I had completely forgotten how quickly the period slipped by me. I dismissed myself to the wall, a lucky opening of the cluster of visitors spread throughout the room, and plucked the phone from the receiver positioned against the flat surface. As I put the phone up to my ear, the wonder surfaced of whether this was Niko coming in with questions or, if I was lucky, that the uniforms had already been prepared and delivered.

"Happy Home Designer, this is Lottie," I greeted cheerfully. It wasn't Niko's voice that responded, but the unfamiliar sound of yet another customer.

"Hi, Lottie," the voice greeted in return with almost as much enthusiasm as what I had given. I always appreciated to get the same energy. "I just had a quick question. I won't take up too much of your time. I just wanted to know when you guys usually open and close the building over there. I've asked around but I'm getting different answers. Are you open at different times on different days or something?"

"Oh, no, I see the confusion," I replied politely. "Unless in the event of a specific deviation, such as an emergency or having no designers present for assistance, we open and close at the very same time every day. That includes weekends, as well. We open at nine in the morning and close at six in the afternoon."

"Oh," the caller said. The surprise in her voice told me that this was either a timeframe she hadn't heard often, or not at all. "Well, thank you for clarifying that."

"That's no problem at all. I'm happy to help," I told her. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Oh, no, that's all," the caller replied. "Thank you for your time."

We exchanged our goodbyes and I hung up the phone again. As I set down the phone back onto the receiver on the wall, I didn't even have the chance to turn around before a timidly-spoken voice was addressing me from behind my back.

"Um... Excuse me," the voice spoke up. I turned around to the sight of a black squirrel several inches shorter than me anxiously fiddling her paws together. When she noticed that she had captured my attention, she threw out one of her paws to point to the double doors on the other side of the room where I had entered. "I think... I think one of your employees is outside nervously pacing around and muttering to himself."

I opened my mouth to speak, to ask what in the world was happening outside the room, but I didn't have the time. Both of the doors had just been flung open, providing the entry for Digby as he emerged into the room in short, hasty strides. As he jolted to a sharp stop while his head swiveled in search of something, several questions bombarded my mind at once. What was he doing here? Wasn't he supposed to be teaching? Where were his students? Had he dismissed himself from classes already? What reason did he have to do that?

Digby continued to intently search the room until his eyes fell upon me. Almost immediately, he had launched into movement again, weaving past the standing visitors and hustling towards me. My heart rocketed up into my throat, wordlessly staring at him as he swiftly crossed the room to reach me.

"Lottie, I know that you're leaving soon and there's something I need to say before you do," Digby told me as he hurriedly approached. The speed in which he was nearing sent me stumbling backwards, accidentally catching my high-heeled shoes on each other in the process, but he instantly grabbed ahold of my paws in his own before I could completely fall over.

"What?" My gaze blankly swept over the room and all of the occupants standing around us, some of which having been distracted from the exhibits by Digby's abrupt appearance and now quietly observing us. I strained to remain calm with a steady breath and a steady mind, but the feeling of my paws squeezed warmly in his so suddenly was already flooding my senses. "Right now?"

"If I don't do it now, I never will," Digby pressed. Despite my straying gaze, his own had never even twitched away from my eyes. "I have no way to know if I'll ever have the courage to if I don't do it now."

"Digby, what are you doing?" I asked. My heart had begun to thump, pounding throughout my entire body as my stomach rippled with nerves. It was only a matter of moments before I started stammering or stumbling over my words. Why did I always have to trip over myself when trying to talk to him? "What's going on? I don't understand."

Digby seemed to be struggling to find the right words. He dropped his grip on my paws to run his own over his face as if trying to soothe himself. I couldn't tear my eyes away, waiting for him to speak again.

"I..." Digby began falteringly, still hunting down the right words as he gently set his paws on my arms as if to hold me together. I couldn't read the emotion in his eyes, only the shimmer from the lights above. "Listen, I know this is going to be coming out of nowhere. I know this is weird. Just bear with me. There's a lot of things I need to say and I don't want to freak you out."

"You won't freak me out," I promised. "I need you to tell me. I'm getting nervous."

"No. No, don't be nervous," Digby urged, although he was clearly just as nervous, if not more. He withdrew from me again to run the pads of his paws together, his eyes skimming the room as if the answer was in one of the faces before he looked at me again. "Lottie, listen. I can't just let you go without knowing the truth. You don't have to say anything. In fact, I don't even know if I want you to say anything. Just know that when I say it, I mean it genuinely and honestly."

I didn't speak. Obviously, it was a big deal. I could already sense my day spinning off in a totally different direction in as little as three minutes. Whatever it was, it was either immensely bad, immensely major, or both. I didn't know how I would handle either one after so much change in my life already.

"I just... I can't keep lying to you," Digby insisted. "Or keep hiding the truth from you, at least. I can't keep pretending that I'm happy soon to be so far away from you with how much you mean to me. And there's really no way to describe how much that is. You're like... You're like all of the good in this world put together into one animal and every ounce of light from the sun and the stars. You're so special. I know you don't always see it for yourself but trust me when I say that I do, every single time I look at you."

When Digby's words faltered again, the only sound to touch the air was the sound of rushing and pattering footsteps. A small group of five or six animals had clustered together to hurry back through the double doors, moving at a brisk and urgent pace as they all filed through after each other. Every other pair of eyes in the room had locked upon Digby and me like we were turning into awful monsters before their very eyes. No movement, no words, just stillness. And staring.

"Yeah, okay, I know this is stupid," Digby said, yanking my attention back up to him in front of me. "Okay? I know. I just need to be honest. I want to be someone in your life that you can turn to for comfort and happiness. I want to do all of the embarrassing and cringe-worthy couple stuff with you. I want to dance with you in the rain. I want to have a special song for us to listen to and think of you or a special place that we can go. I want to hold you close and shelter you from all of the bad things in the world. Being around you is a feeling I can't quite describe and I don't want to let that go. I... Well... I love you, Lottie. I love you a whole lot."

"Digby—" I tried to speak, but I couldn't push my voice any further than a whisper. Seeming unaware that I had spoken at all, Digby went on.

"I just couldn't take the thought of letting you go before you knew that," he told me. "And if you don't feel the same way, please don't apologize or feel bad. We can go right back to being friends and I'll pretend like none of this ever happened. Or you can reject our friendship entirely if you don't feel comfortable anymore. I never want to make you uncomfortable, but I always want you to do what makes you happy."

Nearing the end of Digby's last sentence, the sound of the doors flinging open was pronounced against the thin silence in the room. My head jolted to glance towards the doors to watch the same group of animals hustle back into the room. They weren't alone this time, but rather leading someone inside. Trailing closely behind, Uncle Lyle hastily scanned the room behind his thick glasses the same way Digby had when he first entered with what appeared to be an expression of concern etching into his face. What? Not now. Not now.

"Look at me, please." Digby laid his paws on the sides of my head, gently turning my face back to meet my gaze. I started to raise my paw to point discreetly towards my uncle in his sudden entrance to warn him that we were being watched, but he delicately nudged away my paw again before putting his back into place without noticing what it was for. "I just need to know the truth. I just need to know if you feel the same way and then I'll drop it."

While the confession hadn't completely sunk in yet, the initial shock was dying out. There was an emotion there that I couldn't explain. My chest was squeezing, ready to pop at any given moment. A dampness pooled in my eyes and a faint tremble overran my entire body. It had taken me by such surprise that I hadn't realized this was exactly the moment I had dreamed of for several years. I couldn't begin to process that this was actually happening right now, so as if in a dream, I just had to pick it up and not spend too much thought on it. I forced a smile onto my face, allowing the tears to spring to my eyes and the elated sob to claw up into my throat, and silently nodded as Digby cradled my head in his paws.

A soft smile had begun to creep onto Digby's face as he watched my wordless response, almost that of pure relief, before he gently tugged my head closer to set his bangs-tousled forehead against mine. My eyes fell shut, utterly absorbed in the warmth and closeness of his presence, but the sobs were already starting to unlatch from my throat with a jagged, tearful gasp. In a way that no words in any language could express, the moment just felt so right, like every single passing second had been prophesied from the start and was finally sinking into place. Nothing else mattered. As far as I was concerned, it was nothing more than the two of us in a universe all to ourselves. All that we had were each other and the timeless, ceaseless moment.

When the warmth of Digby's forehead vanished from my own, my eyes fluttered open again. He had pulled his face away to look at me again, though he continued to hold my face between his paws, just as the tears spilled over onto my cheeks. He gave a slight whisper, a little "please don't" with his soft smile, and began to brush away my falling tears. I wasn't sure that I could have managed to speak or even move, staring up at him in the quietness of the room, and he looked back at me. I was drowning in the darkness of his eyes, the comfort of his company, the breathlessness of the next moment to come. For a moment, I was just about convinced that the moment would last forever, until he leaned his face into mine again.

The faint breeze of nightfall. The scattered stars above our heads. The crickets whirring in the shadows. My paws on his cheeks. His arms around my waist. The way that the night engulfed me whole as I pulled his face closer.

I didn't pull away. His paws kept their place on the sides of my head, holding me close. The kiss was gentle and delicate, just as it had been four years ago. In the fraction of a moment, I was standing exactly where we once had when I had made the mistake—What I used to think was the mistake—Of kissing him for the first time. The supple grass beneath our feet as we stood together in the garden at the back of the building. The dimness of nightfall in the late hour enclosing us and the distant pounding of a concert in the distance. I never expected this moment to come around again, but here we were. And suddenly, it was as though everything made sense again.

Digby slowly pulled back again, leaving his paws encasing both sides of my head, and my eyes opened. My entire body had become limp and floaty inside, completely captivated by the moment, and it was a wonder how I was still standing upright. Our eyes met again. I stared up into the dark color of his eyes, watching the shimmering inside from the lights above, and we gazed at each other even if only for a few seconds as our surroundings sunk back in.

Digby finally seemed to remember that we were not only alone, but also being watched. His eyes darted towards the witnesses behind him, his focus falling onto Uncle Lyle at the first glance, and snuck an inquiring look back at me in bewilderment of how long he had been standing there. My uncle's hesitant, awkward clearing of his throat broke the lasting silence, beckoning all of the eyes in the room back to him, as he turned his attention back to the group that had directed him inside the room.

"No, don't worry," he told them. "I don't think they're fighting."