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I wouldn't call it a shipwreck, per say. But you can't help feel like last years model, dumped in the ravine when something better came along.

The squirrel's body jolts awake on cue, as if her muscle memory is reacting to a long held routine. Oh how long has it been since she's followed that kind of morning? Get up, check if that Regal Wardrobe needs to be slightly moved to the left or not. Head outside for the grind: Shake some trees, sell some fish, say hi to the neighbours, maybe if she feels like going ABSOLUTELY BERSERK she'll pick up a new wall clock down T&T Emporium. Another day well spent in paradise at a slight profit.

But that's not been the case for a long while, not since _They_left Crumpet. Not too long after them, the key members of this town followed them. The racoon, the dog, the owl and the hedgehogs all began a chain reaction which dragged everyone and the economy with them. We never appreciate how much we leaned on these stores, the mayor, until it was taken all away.

Why get up now? Sell the fish? To who? Sell the bugs? We haven't seen that Kappa in years to take anyone to the island. Sell the fruit? The prices from Re-Tail go down everyday. Sometimes it feels like there's no choice but to obey the muscle memory and deviate as necessary.

The Squirrel emerges from her Regal Double Bed she takes a moment to scan the room around her. Everything matching and strategically placed to get that coveted S rank from the HHA. There hasn't been an evaluation in the mail for years mind, so they've been terrified of moving anything since. Without guidance, how does she know if the wardrobe technically fits the rules of Feng Shui or not? THERE'S NO WAY TO KNOW! No better to leave it as it is.

She makes her way towards her vanity to get a good look at herself. Honestly she hadn't been outside for the last week, any semblance of self-maintenance would've felt like giving the energy of a opening night performance for an audience of nobody. What is it she gazes at in the reflection? Is this really who she is, or is it only after the morning grooming does 'Pecan' come into existence. Maybe it's the intense isolation talking but she can't help but see separated parts of a whole. An unkempt ungoldy head of hair, grubby claws that have reverted back to their original design, the stream of hair growing from her tail bone. With each day it feels like everything is slowly scaling back into code, the mechanics of living regress to minimalism. Why wear any clothes unless it was to elicit something, why speak unless a recipient was there to hear it? Valid, but such a process does drain all wonder out of the process of: Living.

But this is the line of thinking that led to Pecan wasting away the whole day yesterday, and the day before, and several days before, and also...

-Right! She cries. Time to make the most of this day chipmunk!

She starts her grooming routine, cuts her nail, sorts out her fur, slips into her new favourite Milkmaid's dress. Able Sisters still do delivery orders after all, from where ever they are now, no excuse to look shabby! She then starts cleaning the floor, picking up all the leaves and spoiled turnips she's hoarded. Then she gets started on... Started on... On what? Hmmm. She finds herself walking back and forth trying to invent some form of urgency. She looks up and down everything in her room hoping to take some kind of issue with them. After a while she started to ask, when did she get them? What memories did they conjure up? How did they make her feel? All questions that hope to gleam some whatever little value her furniture had left. Her bed, she remembers when she first got it home, when things were good and inviting the neighbours to jump on it for hours, just to show off. She remembers just before things Stopped Being Good, inviting Leonardo over to brag about her fancy couch, only after he bragged about his recliner for ten thousand years. She recalls it felt good to make him shut up about it. She remembers the last memory after things got bad, dragging Leonardo over to really test how sturdy the bed and couch were, in just some vain attempts to feel like things were good again...

Before she knew it, four hours has passed with her just pacing up and down the room inside her own thoughts. The only thing that manage to snap her out of it is remembering she agreed to have people over later!

She pours herself a glass of wine, made from the nearby cherry trees and sits out on the porch. That's right she was trading letters with Hazel, another squirrel from way up north a few blocks and they decided to hang out. Hang out, god hanging out, hang iiinnn out. Damn it's only been a few weeks but all sense of innate social etiquette has gone out the window. How do you say hello????

Some of the other villagers have taken to the new shift in priorities very badly, if you can call Pecan 'taking it well' of course. All the things that used to matter so much to them, even beyond possessions, like personality traits and ideas have all just lost value. They've taken out to lashing out at the other villagers hoping to find something to replace what it is they'd lost. Not things but ideas, themselves, it's all they have now and they didn't have much of it to start with.

Still it's not all bad, some other villagers have taken to it very well. They seem to thrive of the freedom to change... Every molecule and braincell that makes them at a constant rate. It can be a little harrowing to see people who's peek interactions were trading bugs. Now they're suddenly inviting them round to join their 6 person polycule in the 'Cuddle' Night.

Pecan feels like she teeters in the centre. She can't help but mourn the life she lost, but has tried to see it as a chance to explore. Sometimes the speed of how keen she is to explore leaves her disoriented. Sometime she'll wake up with furniture she doesn't recognise in her room. Stolen items from now abandoned stores, the K from Kicks, Gym gear belonging to Teddy from the night he came round to... Oh god. Like she says: Sometimes it can be disorienting.

Pecan reclines on her chair to take in the sights of late afternoon Crumpet. The view is kind of more plain then it used to be, all the trees have been harvested in an attempt to figure how The Racoon made furniture out of them. Of course it didn't work and the tree's were stripped bare before people figured that one out. Even then someone reckons they'll finally be the one to unlock the Tanuki's magic but time and time again...

No. No. NO. Pecan promised this wouldn't be another day spent in recycling the same thoughts until the day's been pissed away. Arrgggh, okay! Luckily her company is on her way now.

This little one browed Squirrel is Hazel. She came down the street, bowling it like each step weighed a ton. She somehow both had the closed body language of taking up as little space as she could, while seeming like a volatile explosive, 10 feet tall and 10 feet wide. Arms in the pockets of her Red Tracksuit by shoulders ready to strike someone's jaw. It's oversized enough to just cover her black gym shorts. Her eyes poking just behind her singular brow, she finally clocks Pecan and gives a nod and a wave.

Pecan knew Hazel in passing In The Not Terrible Days, but they only really started speaking properly now Days Are The Terrible Days. I mean there's the species aspect of it obvs, but Hazel seemed more willing to adjust to her new routine then Pecan was, it felt nice to be around someone in such high spirits. Pecan observed Hazel wasn't exactly beloved before, a member of the 'Ugly Villager' class, Pecan supposes maybe what Hazel lost wasn't worth keeping anyways. Pecan can't help but be a little envious.

Hazel who had be expertly looking everywhere except for Pecans eyeline, makes eye contact with her and waves at the perfect distance of not being far away enough that the time between waving and being able to speak isn't awkward but not ridiculously near either.

-Ey ow, uni-wow. Says Hazel as she leans on top of Pecans fence.

I mean it's a fence but it's made of bricks, more of a rampart really. Pecan made it herself actually! One of the new ventures of an abandoned Crumpet has unlocked is the idea you can make a thing you want, with things, instead of going into Re-Tail daily and wait for: The same things, except the Nooklings or Cryus made them. A lingering relic of her old life flares up as Pecan hopes Hazel notices her fence, she worked hard on that you know! Didn't ask any of the Jocks in this town to help or nothing. She smugly smiles to herself as she swirls her wine a little before addressing her guest.

Hazel takes a seat at the garden chair the opposite side of Pecan, a significantly less nicer garden chair then Pecans' recliner, no cushions. Pecan hands Hazel a can of beer from the create she got for her days in advance. Another part of Hazel's transition; she into the tinnies now.

-Y'know I remember a time you'd of scoffed at drinking this stuff chipmunk. Begins Pecan. I think the exact quote was 'Wheat soup that stuffy adults drink? No thanks uni-wow' if I recall.

Hazel giggles a little bit in embarrassment.

-Well you know, gotta expand your pallet past literally 5 types of fruit. Hazel retorts.

The squirrels natter the afternoon away, catching up on gossip and asking how each other's streets are faring right now. But two subjects kept gnawing away at Pecans mind. First of all; Oh my god she didn't notice the fence, my life has significantly lost meaning and second:

-Hazel, do you ever think about how us from last year would react to us now? Asks Pecan.

Hazel sniffs in air and tilts her head a little as if to preform some reflecting, but somehow Pecan knew the answers were at the tip of her tongue, as if she had been pondering the subject as well.

-Y'know, I'm torn between if past me would approve of now me uni-wow. Hazel replies.

-You're no less impulsive, I'll let you know that chipmunk.

-Yeah the problem is there was stuff to be impulsive about before, now I just get that shot of energy and naff all to use it on uni-wow.

Hazel sighs as she leans on the back two legs of her chair as she takes a sip of her can

-Just the other day in fact. Hazel continues. I just got the urge to be... Aggressive, that definitely wasn't like me. I bruised my foot kicking a tree lamp in, just cos I felt like it uni-wow. I took my Patchwork Stool and threw into the 'ol Nook Homes as if I was releasing 5 years of tension. I think I shouted 'Fuck you, ya big saggy bollocked fuck' or summant like that.

-That's fantastic, how'd it feel chipmunk?

-Like good. REALLY good. Like I was going off script for the very first time, like I was making the first choice in my life uni-wow. Hazel explained, getting so animated she nearly flew her can out of her paws. It's like I went 'what's the first stupid thing I wanna do?' Then I did it.

Pecan takes a long sip of her wine as a pensive frow developed on her face as she processes what she's hearing. She's heard that phrasing 'The First Choice' a few times now when neighbours were explaining their irregular behaviour. But they never were in control before were they? No one told them to do their dailies and no one certainly enforced them, so why does that phrase "The First Choice" come up every time? Pecan realised she's been silent for a few seconds and attempts to collect her train of thought.

-But what about all the choices you made before chipmunk? The clothes you wear, the furniture you got, saying 'uni-wow' those were still your choices right? Asks Pecan

Hazel returns her chair to all fours, perplexed by Pecan's sentimental reply.

Pecan opens up her stance a little and admits:

-I'm having a hard time accepting all those choices didn't mean anything.

-They did mean something... Once, just not anymore. Hazel replies, taking another can from the crate beside Pecan. Think of it like... Our time with stability itself, that was us developing our identities and self. Now we just have to take what we've built and decide what of it survives and evolves uni-wow.

Pecan is a little taken back by the astute bluntness of Hazels reply, she takes another long sip of her drink as Hazel continues her point.

-Like I guess I feel like I've lost my sweetness, I have to. We can mourn that but also getting angry and roasting Nook's saggy testies was pretty good uni-wow!

Pecan laughs and tires to keep her cheery face, but quickly returns to a pensive state. Her lips locking the rim of her glass, meaning to take a sip but not quite managing it. She finally replies:

-I guess it's been a while and I've not had my radical awakening yet and it's kinda worrying chipmunk.

-Well maybe you just have to hurl a piece of furniture at something too, while calling Blathers a twat or something? Suggests Hazel.

-Well now that you mention it. Pecan begins. I never did like that bitch Eloise chipmunk. Like I'm snooty, but she takes all the charisma out of it. "Ohhh I'm better then everyone cos I'm a bland as a margarine sandwich toooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooot." Maybe I'll throw my bed through her window and graffiti 'Get some class you C grade bitch' on her house.

Hazel leans back in hysterics.

-See!? That's gotta do it, alright when are we up for it. Asks Hazel as she jumps out of her chair.

Pecan starts to laugh, managing to chase her previous sullen mood away.

-Maybe Hazel, maybe. Maybe while we do it I'll find that new identity inside me, or maybe I won't cos maybe... Pecan sighs as the low mood returns to her look. Maybe nothing was ever there in the first place.

Pecan downs the rest of her wine suddenly as if reacting to her sobering thoughts. Hazel could see it in her eyes she wasn't completely present in the conversation anymore. She gets up and parks herself on the end of Pecan's recliner and leans in.

-Listen babe, you can spend a life time being embarrassed, beating yourself up for who you were in those Good Times. But it won't be for nottin' if it helped inform who you're going to become now uni-wow.

Pecan sighs a little, in resignation that Hazel was right, but paralysed with the notion of taking the first step to being someone else. Hazel however recognises this. They start to crawl from the edge of the recliner and slowly on top of Pecan. As she puts her paws on the backrest and faces Pecan, Hazel then grabs her empty wine glass and places it on the floor. Facing Pecan directly Hazel suggests:

-If you need ideas on what your 'First Choice' is going to be. Well I think I might have a suggestion.

Any sense of melancholy and composure that may of once inhabited Pecan as drifted away completely. Oh boy, oh crumbs, CHIPMUNK, as they say. But Pecan could not help but be in agreement with Hazel, tho not as in snogging this Squirrel would be her First Choice (although do not get her wrong, she is absolutely about to get on that). But rather allow the person she's going to become to bleed into the person she's been so far. Cos y'know what? Yeah maybe there was a reason she sent Hazel the snail mail. Maybe every time she bumped into Hazel during her fruit runs, her sporty shorts and tracksuit combo have been driving Pecan to distraction. Maybe the only thing keeping these feelings suppressed as a continuous routine upheld by furniture ownership and home owner pride. Now it's all gone... Now...

-Oh fuck it, chipmunk.

Pecan grabs Hazel's tracksuit and pulls her in for a passionate kiss. Well maybe 'passionate kiss' might be giving it too much pomp and circumstance. As Pecans runs her paws all over Hazel's face, pulls down the zip of her tracksuit and then continues run her paws inside. It's the thrill of the choice in a lot of ways, thinking about it, going to do it, thinking of how to do it, starting to do it and then... Doing it. That's so many choices past the initial one, each one a claw into a life who ran on an automation. Each one piercing under the skin and tearing it apart. Each one rearranging whatever laid inside with no particular design in mind, it was the rearranging itself. It was throwing her own guts to the ground itself. To destroy, rebuild, rearrange her very self like she had done to the furniture in her house every single day.

Oh and the creature she made, from hamstrung remnants of her boring as shit life, what beauty. A thing who's paws now is feeling every inch of the fur and the felt that laid under Hazel's jacket. A beast that's in ecstasy as she feels Hazel's warm breath brush past her neck. All the automation just bleeds away and there's just what she wants, what she needs right now. Just then Hazel starts to lift the bottom of her Milkmaid dress, up and over her head. For a moment Pecan felt some trepidation, like out here? They should go inside. But the thought persists for perhaps a second or two before being completely brushed to the side. It's like Pecan and Hazel spoke just with their gaze:

-Shouldn't we go inside chipmunk?

-We're in an abandoned town my darling, who fucking cares uni-wow?

The sunset beams across Pecans bare body (Yes, the undervest and all!). She couldn't help but tune out her senses down to the bare essentials, to process the feelings as Hazel traces her lips softly down Pecan's inner thigh. The heat of the sunlight creeping into the gaps of her felt, the sounds of the crickets scurrying and the cicadas screeching on the trees nearby. The splashes of the chubs jumping in the riverbed nearby, as the water travels down stream, as the faint sound of Café K.K. can be heard from the stereo still playing inside the house. The footsteps and jitters of the neighbours passing by pretending not to notice, some keep walking on, some take a look back in morbid curiosity. Maybe this is the first time Pecan really appreciated the paradise they resided in when taking the world as it is and not just a avenue for the next Bell payout.

It really was a beautiful soundtrack to Hazel dragging the bridge of their tongue past Pecan's clit. She quickly pushes her thighs together and she leans forward to grab the sides of Hazel's head, as she swings her head back and archs her back. Only to collapse into a slouch again as her whole body shakes uncontrollably, rubbing her crotch all across the Squirrels face. Feeling every notch of her face and the heat of her breath against her pussy, oh it's enough to make Pecan let go of the minimal grasp she has on consciousness. Pecan goes into a limp and Hazel rests her head on the villagers lap.

-Don't say it, chipmunk.

-Ooohhh uni-wooooooooooooooooooooooow.

Pecan laughs as she throws her dress onto Hazel's head. She wants to take in the ambiance of this snapshot for as long as she could. Knowing after it would be the first minute after: The First Choice.