FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

(1/14/21 Update: Just noticed the "heart" alt-code symbol used in the name of a certain plot device was being automatically converted into a "?" instead after submitting. It's been changed to the "<3" emoticon as an alternative to a heart symbol for clarity. I apologize if it confused any readers before I made the change.)

[[On a late autumn Sunday...]]

Every day out in public was like walking through a briar patch. Either people don't watch where they're going until they've already collided with you, or they know exactly where they want to go, and it happens to be right in your face. Those who blunder around like moving obstacles, and those who approach like a racing hurdle for you to leap over. Interacting with people wasn't my problem, no; I enjoyed casual small talk with strangers from time to time. My issue was touching them. Or, better put, them touching me.

I couldn't tell you for sure why I became that way, though I could look back on my life and make an educated guess. When I was younger, I was fairly active in sports, clubs, other physical activities with likeminded peers. These were exhausting at best and painful at worst. The friends whom I used to pal around with often communicated in slaps, punches, jabs, and other rough gestures, frequently targeting “comical" parts of the body to hit. Boys were always like that. There was no escape when it came to adults, either; the preamble to any horrible news I received from teachers and bosses alike would begin with a firm clasp on the shoulder or an uncomfortable pat on the back. “We have to talk about something serious." And to top it off, I never had a girlfriend to experience any kind of gentle, soothing intimacy with. My brain eventually associated any form of bodily contact with pain, discomfort, or misery. Any sudden movements or quick advances and I'd instinctively recoil. I could only ever stand to give another human being a brief, flimsy handshake, and even then my stomach turned at the thought of what they had been soiling their fingers with beforehand.

Physical mistreatment was one thing, but the verbal kind from my various jobs over the years was another beast altogether. I couldn't stand anything related to customer service, or even having to show up to meetings with managers. I had withdrawn from human interaction to such an extent that I eventually fell into an entirely work-from-home job. Truth be told, this was exactly what I wanted, but it only enabled my lonely, sheltered life as I further pulled away from society. I had to force myself to leave my apartment occasionally just to keep myself from living in total recluse. This proved to be a challenge, as there are few places to go where the risk of touchy-feely people is nonexistent. Places like museums and art galleries where you were sternly instructed not to touch everything around you became my go-to destinations, but even then there were rambunctious gangs of children from school field trips to avoid.

And yet people still found a way to remind me of how hollow I was. If I wouldn't engage with them physically, they would simply show me what I was missing out on. Lovely couples holding hands or even locked in tight embraces taunted me from a distance. I longed for that kind of affection, but I couldn't place myself in the shoes of the other men without feeling restless, or even slightly nauseated. Just thinking about the human form and how slimy and unclean it could be spoiled even the most perfect fantasies I had.

There was no denying it: I was a misanthrope. I would go to my grave unable to get over my petty judgements and childish annoyances of people.

I don't remember what brought me to the shopping mall that day, since it was always a hive of everything that disgusted me about people. Their clustered crowds jamming the walkways and their grubby fingerprints left over on every surface made my eye twinge. And yet, some part of me must have seen the mall as the perfect test to help overcome my aversions. Being bundled up in my late-autumn jacket and gloves shielded me a bit from the cold of nature and the touch of humans—all gray attire from top to bottom, appropriate for my mood. But the heavy seasonal clothing wasn't much of a barrier against three different cell phone salesmen who badgered me as I passed their stands. The kind who cleverly planted decoy shoppers in the middle of your path to block you from moving on until you agreed to chat with the mastermind at the kiosk.

The breaking point that made me regret my choice to go to the mall the most was the massage parlor. A struggling little shop with a tiny Asian woman in front trying to draw in customers was unavoidable in the narrow mall corridor I ventured too far down. I've seen her chase potential victims before, and that was all the proof I needed that gong to the mall was a mistake if you were alone. But in my effort to overcome my phobias, I tested my luck and walked by. I felt guilty rejecting her numerous beckons to come inside, but having a stranger vigorously rub your disrobed back in plain view of everyone else seemed like the making of a nightmare. The one dress-shirt salaryman they had face down on a bench didn't look very relaxed to have his spine punched. My muscles tensed up just thinking about it.

And then I saw him sitting on a tall wooden stool next to a sales cart.

Khaki shorts and a floral-print shirt. Wide-brimmed straw hat. Tacky socks with some of the gaudiest slip-on sandals I've ever seen. A tropical assortment of colors compared to my entirely gray ensemble. It would be an eye-roller of a getup even if it were the right climate for such an outfit, but with the temperatures being close to freezing it was downright painful to look at the bizarre old man. The wheeled sales kiosk stationed behind him was overflowing with mini cactus plants, like a green hedgehog was bulging out of it.

His display was perfectly crafted to draw the eye, and I realized too late I had been trapped.

“Ah, looking for a friend to take home with you?" he said. The old man had a Cheshire smile from the moment I spotted him, and at no point in his question did the corners of his mouth droop even the slightest bit.

“Erm, no, no thanks," I said with a grimace, waving him a quick goodbye.

“Are you sure?" the smiling man responded without hesitation. “I know it's difficult to approach them, but once they finally bloom, you'll never give those deceptive spines another worry!"

There was an intonation to his voice that made me think he was speaking in innuendo—about something else entirely—but he held out a tiny potted cactus wearing a tiny pair of sunglasses thoughtfully. His perpetual smile was unnerving, though the more I looked at it the more I wondered if it was just my jadedness getting the better of me. His grin didn't have the oily deception of the other salesmen scattered throughout the mall, and yet it wasn't so self-assured that it felt like smugness or superiority. He was just an odd old man with all smiles and a cart full of cacti.

I gave him a feeble smirk in return, but I declined the offer once again.

“They look really nice," I said, “but it wouldn't do well with me. It's hard enough to take care of myself sometimes, you know?"

I played it off as a joke, even though I had just blurted out what I truly felt in my heart. That was the second trap I fell into: never be honest with the salesman.

Mr. All-Smiles somehow found more room on his cheeks to stretch his grin even wider.

“Is that right?" he said. Each word was pristinely enunciated and full of honey. “Maybe I'm peddling the wrong product to the wrong person?"

“Bingo," I said bluntly, hoping he would take the hint and give up on his pitch.

No such luck. The old man stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“Bingo, eh...?"

He held up the mini sunglasses-cactus to his ear, letting the spines brush dangerously against his skin.

“Then how about you? I think I may have found the perfect partner! Would you be willing to take care of this poor young man? Hmm? Ah...I see...yes, that would work wonderfully! Oh, but certainly! You have my ironclad word, of course. Not a single print or beat of sweat!"

It was a mortifying scene to be a part of. I wished I could run back to the massage parlor to take my chances with the Asian lady instead of watching an old man chat with a plant. But no—I was rooted in place by the absurdity of the moment. Luckily, there weren't any passersby to point and laugh at us.

Once the man was finished with his conversation, he placed the cactus back on the cart next to a small, framed picture. It was a picture of Mr. All-Smiles himself with what was unmistakably a robed cat of some breed. Yellow, almost sickly-looking skin-like fur hung loosely on its face. Maybe one of those wrinkly sphinx cats? It was dressed up in a robe like a human would, and the way the camera angle captured the cat's head made it look just as large as the old man. It was an uncanny picture, but a perfect encapsulation of this guy's quirky behavior.

“It seems the stars have aligned perfectly!" he said with a clap of his knees. “A good friend of mine is available to assist in your...hmm, 'physical therapy.' That is, if you are willing to accept our offer?"

Physical therapy?

His words chilled me to the core. On one hand, they didn't seem to mean anything except even more rambling from a senile gentleman. Yet on the other hand, it felt as though he knew exactly what he was talking about. He knew my whole story from the second he saw me, and only a second more was all it took for him to craft some mysterious scheme involving my life. Or, maybe he really was just a doddering old man trying to sell some plants.

All I could do was say the most honest “I don't understand" in my life.

And all I got in return were more riddles.

“Everyone deserves a chance at happiness in their life, my dear friend," Mr. All-Smiles continued. “It is my belief that we must do what we can to present the opportunity for self-improvement to those who need it, when we feel they need it. However, even if such an opportunity is presented, the recipient must be willing to meet fate halfway and work to earn their better life. There is no free ticket to true happiness, but the sales counter is always open, understand? Hmmhoho!"

The old man leaned back on his wooden stool. He must have been reclining against several of the cacti with no complaint.

“If you are willing to meet fate halfway," he went on, “then I will present you with that opportunity. I'm confident you will not regret it. How does 7:00 this evening sound to begin?"

“And what would I have to do?" I asked, keeping my guard up.

“Nothing except keep your heart open, my friend! If you do not wish to refuse my offer, then that is all I ask of you. Everything else will play out according to schedule. Agreed?"

He didn't ask for an address, a name, or even a phone number. He just gave a time and some fortune-cookie platitude about being optimistic. But it also seemed like this was the chance to end our awkward exchange so I could make a break for it. All I had to do was play by his rules for a few more seconds and nod in acceptance.

“Sure, agreed."

“Excellent!" he said. “Now then, any nagging questions before we part ways for now?"

Tons, without a doubt. But there was only one I felt like asking this man.

“Do you ever stop smiling?"

Of course, his grin managed to get even wider.

“Only when the missus is making her special tuna casserole. I love her cooking dearly, but that smell...ooohoohoo! Ahh, what we must put up with for love, eh?"

I happened to check my phone at 6:58 that evening. My interaction with the strange old man had been lingering in my head all day, but with two minutes left until the start of the hour, all the thoughts intensified. I hadn't given him any contact information before hustling away from his cactus cart. So, what was going to happen at 7pm? Nothing.

But I couldn't move myself from my couch. I just lay there and watched the clock until it turned to 6:59...and second by second for the next full minute. The distant echo of the apartment building's front door opening and closing heavily made my heart skip, but I knew it was nothing to get excited over. It was a sound I heard every day around that time for the last few years, made by people returning from the lives they actually had outside of their homes. Those lucky people who weren't shut ins.

My eyes had strayed from the phone while I strained to listen at the sounds beyond my walls, and when my attention returned to the screen it was already a minute after 7pm. The start of the hour came and left while I was lost in thought, and nothing had changed with my life. Not since the last few minutes. Not since the last few years. At least the life of a loner meant the uncomfortable scene with the old man would be eventually forgotten. Nobody I knew was there to ever remind me of it. And knowing the turnaround of the mall kiosks, if I avoided the old man for a couple weeks he'd probably just relocate somewhere else. A few months from now, I'd probably wonder if I had just imagined the whole interaction with him.

Then came a knock at my door.

I jolted upright. No, I thought, that's not possible. It had to have been a late delivery package; it became a sad habit of mine to order things online just to give myself something to look forward to each day. But I couldn't think of anything I was expecting, and it was Sunday anyway. The adrenaline lifted me to my feet, and I hurried over to the door to check it out.

The peephole was completely black, as though it was blocked by a finger. Was someone pulling a prank on me? I unlatched the chain, then unbolted the lock. When I opened the door, there was nobody there. No package was left behind, either. I looked through the peephole once more and saw a clear view of the hallway. Someone had to have been plugging it, but they somehow made no sound as they fled out of sight in the seconds it took me to open the door.

I stood dumbfounded for a minute before letting the door swing itself shut. One more glance through the hole for good measure, or maybe it was superstition. Nothing.

Then I turned my back to the door and nearly jumped out of my skin.

My guest almost did the same with her fur.

“WHAT THE F—!?"

Standing on the other side of my living room was a fox. Standing. Bipedal. Shoeless, my wires-crossed brain felt necessary to notice. Taking in everything about the fox at once, I guessed...female? She had a black, stocking-like shade of fur from her toes all the way up her thighs, and from her fingertips up to her elbows. From there, the color shifted to an unnaturally bold golden shade all over the rest of her body. I never saw a real fox that could be described as “blonde" like that before. She wore a human's pair of jean shorts that somehow accommodated the billowing tail hanging from her backside, along with an oversized t-shirt, emblazoned with a busy graphic of some heavy metal rock band logo that was draped over her lithe frame and hung off one shoulder. Her eyes were mostly chestnut brown, but there were reddish flecks in them that reminded me of a bonfire, with the smoldering flames barely visible through the sticks and leaves. The eyes were surrounded by such thick, pitch-black markings that they appeared painted on.

The fox girl had a backpack slung over one shoulder and held a tote bag in a paw-like hand. She dropped both to the floor as we stared at each other. The way she looked so panicked to see me was as if I was the one who had just invaded her home. It was a stare down that I'm sure would have already progressed to screaming if we were both humans—mere strangers to one another who found ourselves in a frightening situation—but half of me was struggling to figure out if this was something to even scream over. Was this even real? Was I seeing things? The look I received in return was more apprehension than confusion; she didn't seem unfamiliar with humans, as though she must have encountered one before. Instead of yelling, her ears folded back defensively.

“Hello..." I said autonomously, not even recognizing my own voice.

“H-hey," the vixen responded. Her voice was notably feminine but had an alien roughness to it. It was the kind of voice an actor might give a “feral" cartoon character, but it sounded natural and not at all forced the way a human would try to fake a bestial species.

The one-word greetings was where the exchange stopped for a while. The two of us stood like statues, anticipating the other to make the first move. My phone rang to move things forward, spooking us both into another panicked jump.

[Unknown number.]

Of course it would be, I thought, though I had a good idea of who was on the other side.

“Hello...?" I answered, a little more in control of my speech this time.

“Ah, my apologies, young sir!" Mr. All-Smiles said. I could easily picture him with his Cheshire smile in my mind's eye. “There was another matter I had to attend to, so please forgive my lateness! I trust you have been introduced to my friend by now?"

The vixen's ears perked up. The call wasn't on speaker, but the fox girl must have heard the old man anyway. I made a note to be careful about what I said around her.

“Y-yeah, she's here," I replied.

“Excellent! I would like to formally introduce you to Ms. Pinelove. The two of you will be a perfect match for this arrangement, I have no doubt. Alas, there is still the matter of the effort you will have to put forth in order for this arrangement to be considered a success. Do you remember this from our discussion earlier? As I explained to you, when an opportunity is presented, it is still up to the receiver not to carelessly squander it. And as you did not refuse my assistance earlier, I will assume you are capable of doing your part, yes?"

I've signed up for phone contracts that were less cryptic than what I stumbled into. I nodded to myself out of habit, and—obviously—the old man chuckled as though clearly seeing my reaction for himself.

“Now for the terms of the arrangement. Ms. Pinelove will be your guest until the end of the week. She has been supplied with her own personal expenses so that she will not impose on you financially. Still, I ask that you be a generous, attentive host during her stay. Once the week has concluded, she will return home and I will declare your therapy a success. We will discuss your reward at that time. However...."

If there was any moment I imagined the old man wasn't smiling for once, it was during that weighted pause. I was eternally grateful I couldn't see his face change in person.

“There is one important condition to this arrangement: you must not touch our dear Pinelove at any time during her stay."

The vixen's head drooped, and she grabbed her elbows, looking away from me.

“I...understand," I replied, sounding more like a question than reassurance. What an odd thing to say.

“To clarify: I mean, of course, consciously and by your own hand," Mr. All-Smiles said. “If Ms. Pinelove voluntarily makes contact with you, that will be no fault on you. As a matter of fact, she has been instructed specifically to be comfortable in...hmmm...'testing' the boundaries of your personal space. Part of the mission to break through that social shell of yours, yes? But you, my dear boy, must act as though your palms and fingertips are incorporeal. Phantom limbs. Off-limits. Look, but don't touch. I know I will not need to tell you that lashing out at her with violence or unconsented intent using any of your limbs is equally forbidden, as you do not seem like the aggressive sort. But should you breach these conditions in any fashion, she will be recalled from your home immediately and our business together will cease. Am I understood?"

“Yes, sir," I said breathlessly.

“With that said, good luck! I eagerly await to see the result of your therapy! Please wish Ms. Pinelove a goodnight for me!"

The phone went silent.

It was just “Pinelove" and me now. The one mediator who knew exactly what was going on had abandoned us. If I could have kept the conversation going for the entire week, I would have tried. Even the “unknown number" didn't show up in my phone's call history. An inhuman stranger was dumped into my life—one of the opposite sex, at that—and I had to play host for seven days. Or, until I touched her, according to Mr. All-Smiles.

Could I give her a handshake and be done with it? Would she pop out of existence? Would I be struck down by lightning for defying the rules?

“Hey..." the vixen said again.

What was I backing out already for? The fear and surprise were slowly draining away from my body, and instead I was left with intrigue and concern for the fox girl. I felt it was in my right to gawk at such a strange creature that I hadn't even dreamed could exist before today, but looking at her worried eyes flipped my heart. She was clearly more frightened about the circumstances than I was.

“Yeah, hey," I said back to her at last. “Nice to meet you, uh, Pinelove."

I instinctively held my hand out. My fingers curled up defensively when the vixen's ears swiveled back again.

“Ah, sorry," I said, rubbing my neck instead. “Forgot already."

It was going to be a long week.

“It's alright," she said, tracing a circle in the carpet with her toe. “I'm sorry, too...for putting you through this. I'll stay out of your hair for the week. And...if you really don't want me around, I'm sure I can find someplace else to crash for a few nights. He doesn't have to know."

There was more baggage in her words than what she had sitting on my floor. She was less of a freeloader trying to get free lodging and more like...someone who really needed a place to stay? My apartment wasn't very big, but there was still room for at least one more.

“No, no! You're good," I said, trying to show as much hospitality as possible. “Look, I don't know what your story is, and I'm not asking you to tell me anything you don't want to. If you're comfortable staying here with me for the week, make yourself at home. I might need to clean up a bit...erm...put some stuff away really quick first. I can even get some new sheets out if you want to use the bed."

The fox girl kicked her backpack.

“Nah, I brought my own sheets. And you keep the bed. Thanks, though. Could I...could I at least use the couch, though?"

“Be my guest," I said. “You need a drink or something? Not going to lie, I don't think I'll be sleeping for a while tonight...."

Pinelove shook her head as she grabbed her tote bag.

“I'm dead tired, myself," she sighed. “Do you have a bath or shower I could use? I'll be out like a log after I clean up."

“Yeah, help yourself," I said, pointing her toward the bathroom.

She spent the next twenty minutes rinsing down in the shower, then almost twice as long using a pitiful sounding hairdryer. I visualized what the tub drain would look like with all that golden fur clogging it. Then my imagination meandered to what the vixen even looked like under that oversized t-shirt. Did the fur cover everything, or...?

The hairdryer stopped, cutting the power to those guilty thoughts. I hurried to tidy up as much as I could before the fox girl came out of the bathroom. I had all the time in the world to keep the apartment clean and organized with it just being myself, but falling into a rut of sloth meant some days looked far better around the place than others. I packed food away in the cabinets and tossed out piles of junk mail, then I ducked into my bedroom to double check that nothing incriminating was left out. Pinelove must have heard me preoccupied in the bedroom, so she took the opportunity to exit the bathroom.

She scurried out briskly, still wearing the oversized t-shirt but carrying the jean shorts rather than wearing them. She tugged the hem of the shirt down as she skittered past my ajar door and over to the couch, avoiding eye contact.

"G'night!" she yipped. “T-thanks again."

“You too, goodnight!"

Pinelove shut off the lights on her side of the apartment, and then dove under her sheets from the sound of it. It was my turn to use the bathroom, and it never felt so unfamiliar to me since when I originally moved in. There was an unusual aroma mixed in with the moist air; it wasn't particularly unpleasant—far from the wet dog smell I worried it would be—but something about it was unmistakably “animal." A few strands of black and gold hairs were stuck to the drain, though not nearly enough to clog it. The longer I lingered in the bathroom, the more aware of my hesitation I became.

She's going to think I'm cleaning up after her, or something, I thought to myself. The best thing I could do was just to act natural, but being consciously aware of trying to “be natural" only made it worse. Should I take some cold medicine to knock myself out? I'm going to be too restless if I don't, but...what if she notices I took some and thinks I'm becoming allergic to her? What if she's actually dangerous and I can't wake up if she sneaks in on me?

The wild thoughts followed me to my bed and continued long after I laid my head down. Ironically enough, the stress and worry eventually tired me out. Without the adrenaline from the past hour or so sending my heart into overdrive, my body was crashing hard. I fell into a dreamless sleep, utterly spent from the day's adventure.

---

[[Monday]]

It was like getting jolted out of a bad dream. I woke up as peacefully as I would any other day, but remembering I had a strange fox girl on my couch catapulted me upright. All the stress I had set aside before I fell asleep resurfaced in a torrent, pumping the adrenaline back through my veins. I strained to hear any noise from the living room; Pinelove was snoring lightly. After throwing some clothes on I went to check up on her, trying to be both quiet and quick.

She was splayed out on the couch as though it was the most comfortable place on the planet for her. It wasn't polite to stare at a sleeping girl, no matter what species she was, but I was enthralled by the unbelievable sight right in front of me. The subtle rustle of my clothes as I crept around made her ears twitch, but once I began to walk around the living room casually, the ears became still. They must have sensed apprehension. When I was fearful, she was, too. When I moved without hesitation, she slept on without care.

How should one be a good host for a literal fox? I was beside myself with indecision. I searched for answers with more tidying around the apartment, praying I wouldn't be bothering Pinelove too much while she snoozed. Nothing I did looked like it stirred her much, aside from the occasional twitch of the ear when I made too little noise.

It was late morning after I completely exhausted all possible things to clean. The vixen hadn't moved an inch from the couch.

“Hey, Pinelove?" I whispered. “You doing alright?"

She grumbled something unintelligible. It may have been sleep-talk.

“I, uh, might be going out for a little while for some errands."

Grunt, more snoring.

I was worried the fox girl was sick. I had her as a guest for less than half of a day and I already screwed it up. Or did the old man drop her on me knowing she was ill?

I made a ham sandwich for Pinelove and left it by the couch with a glass of water; I'd be getting my own lunch out in town. Her nostrils flared when I set the food on the table, but she remained deep in slumber. I thought about buying some medicine while I was out getting fresh air, but would the biology of an anthropomorphic fox person accept human medicine the same way? Thanks to Mr. All-Smiles, I didn't have any sort of manual to help take care of something like Pinelove.

I was equally worried about leaving the apartment because I was leaving the vixen unattended. I wasn't instructed not to leave my home, but surely I was being monitored for harboring something that wasn't human, right? The world outside was just as mundane as I left it the day before. I didn't feel stalked or tailed. I didn't see a sudden population of animal people around town as if reality itself had allowed them to coexist with humans. So, what was going on?

My first stop was to the mall again. I could grab some easy lunch at the food court, but more than anything I wanted to check in on Mr. All-Smiles. The typical “hazards" of being among crowds of pedestrians didn't even faze me. I had tunnel vision for the cactus cart, and even though I still made no attempt to engage with any of the people trying to get in my way, I didn't feel the same sense of urgency to leave as normal.

But the old man and his plants weren't there anymore. All that remained was a new kiosk stand with calendars for next year, manned by a distracted teenage girl who couldn't have been more opposite from Mr. All-Smiles overabundant gregariousness.

I let out a spontaneous laugh. Why would he still be there? This was an enigmatic old man with some—and there was no avoiding it—magical mysteriousness about him. It only made sense he'd disappear when I needed to find him. We would only interact on his terms. There was a good chance I would be on my own for the whole week with Pinelove. She might even leave at the end of it and I wouldn't be graced with a single answer to what happened. I would forever go insane from the fox girl that fell into my life and promptly walked out.

The teenage girl at the calendar stand was staring at me. That was my cue to leave. I would much rather have a mental breakdown in the comfort of my own home, and not in a crowded mall. I grabbed my lunch and called it an early day, eager to see what the state of my apartment looked like.

Back home, and not a minute too soon. The cool air that wafted out of my apartment felt the same as always. There was an unfamiliar scent to it, but not overbearing by any means. The first thing I noticed was that the sandwich was gone, save for some crumbs on the plate. The water, too, had been drained. Pinelove, on the other hand, was right where I left her, albeit napping in an entirely different position on the couch.

This is a good sign, right? I thought. She was healthy enough to eat, and I didn't lose her anywhere. If all I need to do to be a good host was give her a few sandwiches a day for a week, I felt I was in great shape.

Then there was the elephant in the room: the fox, to be technical. I wanted to know more about her. This wasn't some exotic pet I was taking care of for a week while its owners were out. I was housing a walking, talking vulpine woman who ate, bathed, and dressed like a human. And she was...beautiful, in a mystifying sort of way. I had no basis of comparison when it came to what I believed I'd find “attractive" in a real-life fox girl, but she was leagues more captivating than the vast majority of human women I've seen.

My awkward staring was making Pinelove's ears twitch again, so I hurried to find something to busy myself with. My home job would have to do. Playing host for a fox creature wasn't going to excuse me from the responsibilities of my career, and although my work-from-home schedule gave me hearty freedom in what I could do with my day, there was a minimum requirement of time I had to log in if I wanted to keep my employment. I booted up my computer on the other side of the living room and took care of business. The constant clacking of keyboard keys didn't seem to bother Pinelove.

A few hours I spent diligently at the computer, almost forgetting the guest I had sleeping a few feet away until she would let out a sharp snore. It was getting too late to organize a grand dinner for me and the sleeping beauty, but she didn't necessarily object to the slapdash sandwich I made earlier.

I cracked open a jar of chili from my freezer and heated it up for us. I spooned a little into a bowl for myself and left the rest by Pinelove with an assortment of condiments and sides. Once again, her nose sniffed for the meal, but she made no effort to wake. Food shyness, maybe? I wolfed down my own serving, then headed to the shower to wash up. There was something I wanted to test.

I took my time bathing, giving the vixen free rein to the food. After I returned to the living room, Pinelove was still there on the couch. Everything else, not so much. The chili, the crackers, the cheese, the sour cream, the noodles...everything I offered was gone. She cleaned her plate and went back to her hibernation. What an appetite. What speed.

I gathered all the bowls and pots I had laid out for her. She curled up in her sheets at my approach, but she didn't look frightened.

“Nnnhh...anks..." she groaned.

“You're welcome," I responded quietly, assuming I had heard her correctly.

The duty of fostering someone else was tiring me out. I wasn't used to it. I didn't lie to Mr. All-Smiles when I told him it was hard enough just to care for myself some days. It wasn't even a matter of “forgetting" to eat or exercise—you simply didn't want to. But I knew what I wanted and when; someone like Pinelove was a different story. What did she want, and when would she want it?

Hopefully she'll be fine for the night, I yawned to myself.

It was already looking like it would be an easy sleep for me. Unlike the previous night, however, I was treated to a dream.

There wasn't much discernable detail, but it was memorable nonetheless. I was standing in an endless hallway; it was carpeted with one continuous stretch all the way down, with narrow walls and a low ceiling. Lined up on both sides of me were old picture frames, holding blank voids within them. Trying to walk forward was fruitless, as though the carpet was a treadmill keeping me from advancing. I squinted to find an end to the hallway. Instead, I saw a figure make measured steps toward me.

There was only one person on my mind at that moment. Who else could it have been?

Pinelove kept her distance from me. Before I tried calling for her, the dream was over. That's all the opportunity I was given for that night. The remainder of my dreams were forgettable.

---

[[Tuesday]]

It was a new day. Another day. Many more to go for the week, but I wasn't allowed to deal with more than one at a time. I felt optimistic about this one, however.

I dressed up and checked on my guest. Pinelove was still there. Her splayed-out sleeping posture looked downright ridiculous now, with her leg hooked up on the back of the couch and her fluffy fox tail clutched to her chest with an arm. She'd soon be off the couch one way or another, and I hoped it would be because of the coaxing from another meal instead of a terrible gravity-related accident.

Breakfast wasn't a staple for me for most days, but I had enough to make some eggs and toast. The operation to wake the sleeping creature was underway. First her snoring stopped when the bread started toasting. Then I heard the soft sniffing of her nose while the eggs heated. The rustling of the sheets...the nearly silent padding of her feet on the carpet. I could feel her in the kitchen behind me.

“Good morning!" I said, intensely focusing on the eggs. “That was quite a long nap. So...uh, you want something to eat?"

Pinelove was sitting at the kitchen counter when I finally turned to face her. The vixen was examining a note card, but swiftly stuffed it into her shorts pocket. She still wore the same heavy metal rock band t-shirt, yet now she at least had her jean shorts back on.

“That would be great...thanks," she said, still groggy from sleep. Her stomach let out a growl on cue. “Dammit, shh!"

I hid a laugh with a fake sneeze. Her agitated response to the hunger noises was comically timed.

“Have as much as you want," I said, loading the eggs on a plate and stacking up the toast neatly in a tower. “Not big into breakfast myself, but I'll clean up what you don't want to finish."

“I might not be leaving much for you..." Pinelove said sheepishly. “It's been a while since I had real meal meals."

Then came the part where I had to navigate through the personal minefield. Was she hoping I'd follow up on her remark, or was she expecting that I'd just leave the comment alone? There was also the matter of her sleeping away an entire day and now acting like it was nothing. She hadn't given me a reason to believe she was being deceptive or would be hostile to questions if I got a little inquisitive. What were humanlike foxes capable of if things turned ugly?

My inner voice scowled at how badly I was at figuring out how to talk to people, let alone someone of the opposite sex. Let alone someone not even human.

“Well," I said with a sharp inhale, “don't worry about it. Take whatever you want. I'm not much of a cook, but if there's something you want, I can see what I can do."

Pinelove made a double-decker sandwich out of the toast and eggs.

“Hey..." she said, “about what the old guy was saying the other night...I know he wanted you to be my 'host' and stuff, but I really don't want to be a burden here. I'll stay out of your way until the week's over. Just...do whatever you'd normally do if I didn't come here. I don't need any special attention or anything."

“What I'd normally do isn't too exciting anyway," I said. “Frankly, I don't think you could get in my way. But, uh, while we're on the topic...."

Those thick, black eye markings drew my gaze right in as I continued speaking.

“I don't suppose you can tell me anything about what's happening right now, huh? I mean no offense—trust me—but it's a little weird to have someone like you show up out of the blue...and, hmm, sleep through a whole day, know what I mean? Do you know that smiley old man personally?"

Pinelove made a raspy giggle midbite into her sandwich. “I was wondering how long you were going to wait to ask! Yeah, I know. I'm not human, and you've never seen a talking fox before. I don't blame you for being scared of me, but I kind of wanted to see if you were going to go the whole week just pretending this was normal!"

“I'm not afraid of you," I said, a little offended.

The vixen folded her hands over the counter and leaned forward with a mischievous grin. Whereas Mr. All-Smiles had a wide, toothy mouth, Pinelove's was narrow to match her fanged muzzle. She turned her head to the side just to show off her full set of pearly whites.

“Then it's because I'm a girl and you didn't want to be nosy?"

“No!" I responded, a little too guiltily. I had to flip the conversation to save face. “And you were pretty quiet yourself until just now. Did I scare you that much?"

“I'm in some unknown guy's home," Pinelove said bluntly. “Can you blame me?"

She giggled again and took a few more chomps of her breakfast."

"Mmmphbut," she continued with a gulp, “I can't...shouldn't...can't really tell you about where I know that guy from. Sorry. I think you deserve to know since you got dragged into this and all, but...it's complicated. I'm supposed to just be, like, watching over you for now. Learning, I guess?"

“About humans?"

“Yeah, yeah. Something like that."

The little smoldering embers in her eyes shimmered as Pinelove gave me an apologetic, sympathetic look.

“But I'm dead serious about what I said before. Him, too...maybe. We're not trying to screw up your life or do something bad to you, I swear. I just need to stay with you for a few days, then you can have your privacy back. The old guy will probably explain everything when it's over, too. Does that help at all?"

“Not really," I said outright. “Everything's still pretty sketchy to me, but I guess if I want answers I'm going to have to play along for now, huh?"

I looked down at my palms.

“So I have to be careful about the whole 'no touching' thing, huh? Not even a handshake or anything? Is there any particular reason I have to keep my hands to myself? N-NOT like I was going to try anything."

That could have been worded better.

It's one thing to be told not to get all handsy with a girl, like if a cautious dad is warning you of your boundaries around his only daughter, but specifically no hand-or-finger contact like how Mr. All-Smiles outlined in his instructions seemed specifically restrictive. It reminded me of a playground game much younger kids would invent with weird rules for the sake of being funny or challenging. Touchless tag, or something of the sort.

“All part of the details," Pinelove said just as obtusely as the old man did. “Again, sorry. Just...play along, like you said."

“Alright, alright...."

The vixen tiptoed her claws along the counter like a pair of walking legs toward the toast. I nodded a “go ahead" to her, and she swiped the rest of the stack.

“But you're probably going to be out the door for most of the week anyway, right?" she said. “You have your own job and life to deal with, I bet."

“Well...."

I gave a short summary of what my job was like, and how I'd be mostly working on the computer a few hours a day at home. I would likely step out for a little fresh air here and there, but apart from restocking the fridge I didn't have much excuse to stay out too long.

“Oh, ah, let me pitch in for some meals," the fox said. “The old man gave me an allowance so I wouldn't be mooching off you too much. Don't know what kind of food's good around here, but just let me know what I can throw your way!"

The “expenses" he said she was given? I thought. It was admittedly surprising how much of the breakfast she was wolfing down, but I didn't see her appetite breaking the bank for me just for a single week if I kept feeding her myself. Hopefully that optimism wouldn't bankrupt me.

“I'll still treat you," I offered. “I want to be a good host."

“Yeah, but—"

“I'm just playing along, after all."

The vixen pouted impishly, but I could sense the gratefulness in her demeanor.

“Suit yourself, boss It's your money!"

Later on, I made a quick trip to the grocery store for some more food. I was never so quick to return home before, now with a conscious fox girl waiting for me at my apartment. It was entirely possible I'd return home to find everything a mess, or stolen, or worse. Would she even still be there? I didn't want to give my hasty paranoias any chance to let those things happen.

But to my relief, Pinelove was still there, folding up her bed sheets and trying to fluff the couch cushions back up.

“Welcome back, Gray!" she said.

“Gray?"

“Your clothes," Pinelove said, pointing at my admittedly monochrome choice in autumn fashion. “Got sort of a Gloomy Gray vibe going on with that. Errm, no offense...."

Well, I've been called worse, I sighed. “By the way, how did you sleep? Was the couch alright?"

She sat down on the couch with a bounce. A ballpoint pen was launched off the cushions and it soared into the air. Pinelove lashed out arms and snatched it mid-flight, stuffing it into her shorts pocket where the notecard from earlier was secreted away to.

“Felt like a cloud compared to what I've been sleeping on recently!" she said, lounging on the couch with a stretch. Her eyes went wide, and she quickly sat upright. “Aaand...sorry about being out like that yesterday. It sounded like you were worried."

“You weren't sick or anything, were you?" I said, careful not to appear like I was hesitant to approach and catch her “fox germs."

“No-no, nothing like that," the vixen said. “I was...hah, damn, you keep asking the stuff I don't think I can talk about."

Her voice trailed off in the end, but her expression told me she was earnestly trying to find an actual, sufficient answer this time.

“I was already pretty stressed from other stuff in my life," Pinelove said. “I was having a lot of insomnia right before the old guy dropped into tell me he found someone to live with—right in the middle of the night, too—and that made me even more anxious. And then the trip over here was crazy long as well. It's got to have been almost two whole days since I slept that well. My body just wouldn't budge."

Pinelove rubbed the couch tenderly.

“I know I've just been 'thanks' and 'sorry' since I came here, but...thanks for taking care of me while I was asleep. I really appreciate it. I feel like a slob for eating your food and passing out again like that."

She got up on her feet and started to twist and stretch her whole body. There was no denying she had the dexterity of a fox. Even yoga masters would raise an eyebrow to what Pinelove was capable of.

“Got to make sure I don't get too lazy though," she grunted between bends. “It's not supposed to be a vacation for me."

“Says who?" I asked.

“Who do you think?" the vixen retorted.

“If I'm remembering correctly, you're the one who brought up that the old guy 'doesn't have to know' if you had to find someplace else to stay, right? So, by that logic, he doesn't have to know if you treated your time here like a vacation, right?"

She bent in half backwards and gave me an upside-down wink.

“If you say so. Your house, your rules!"

I may have been a bit too hasty in letting my guard down so much, but I saw it as a learning opportunity for the two of us. I never had to share a space with a sibling or roommate like this, and it would be the ideal test to see if I could handle it. Meanwhile, if Pinelove was the type of person to take advantage of good will—if I were to find something mysteriously broken or missing with her around the place—then I would likely catch her doing so sooner if she had the invitation to be more comfortable.

I didn't like dwelling on the pessimism, or the negative outcomes to the “what if" scenarios playing out in my mind. Yeah, I had heard horror stories of bad roommates from friends, but I also wanted to give the vixen a fair first impression. What other chance would I have to meet a creature like her if I botched this because of my own foolishness?

I let Pinelove watch the TV as I did my computer work for the afternoon. She wasn't a stranger to technology and “modern" entertainment like any human her age would be, but I couldn't be too sure. I didn't want to talk down to her like she was some time-traveler from a past century or something, but it was difficult to get a feel for her background when she was so mum on the details. The barrier between humans and whatever kind of fox creature she was wasn't so clear.

The vixen quickly convinced me she knew all about TV because of how little she seemed to actually care about it. She flipped through channels like a pro with the perfect pause between switches, but every time I looked into a dark corner of my computer's glossy screen I could see her staring back at me. The TV wasn't a distraction for her—it was a distraction for me; it was white noise to make me think she was busy with her channel surfing when she was really concentrated on analyzing me. Or was it the paranoia talking again? Her constant gaze was sidetracking me, but at the same time it motivated me to finish all the sooner so I could give her my undivided attention. If that's what she even wanted, after all.

She didn't wait even a second after I shut everything down to start asking questions.

“So, what kind of job did you say you have?"

It wasn't worth getting too much into detail about, but I didn't want to blow her off entirely. I told her the basics, which essentially boiled down to “grunt work" in the form of answering emails, parsing through data for only the nuggets my bosses cared about, and overall doing stuff to look busy when I was logged in so I wouldn't be accused of wasting time. The simplicity and vagueness of my answers didn't seem to bother her, and if the vixen didn't understand a word of it at least she was terrific at faking it.

“You don't seem too thrilled about it," was the message she took away from the explanation.

“Not a bit," I sighed. “But, it's the best I could find without having to go out into the world and, you know, deal with people."

Pinelove opened her mouth to say something else, but quickly shut it and puffed her cheeks up with all the held breath. Somehow, I could anticipate her follow-up question and the rest of the exchange we'd be having word for word.

Why don't you want to deal with people?

I don't want to go into detail. What about you?

I don't want to say right now either.

And from the look in her crackling eyes, the conversation played out just the same in her mind as it did mine.

“Sorry that I can't be a more amusing host," I said to change topics. “I can put on a movie for you if you want. I've got some board games in the closet, too. Somewhere...."

“Don't worry about me," Pinelove said. She pulled a hairbrush out of her backpack and twirled it around. “I need to use the bathroom again for a while. I still feel really gross messing up your home with my homelessness."

Homelessness?

The brush fell to the floor.

“Uh, homeliness, I meant," Pinelove said. “That. Home_LINESS_, not 'lessness.' Sorry, had a slip of the tongue for a second! My fur has mats in it, and I need to give it a full wash. That might, uh, take a while."

The vixen retrieved her brush and skittered off to the bathroom. She wasn't kidding about taking a long time in there. Hours later and she was still in there. It was getting too late to hold off dinner any longer, so I began to cook some simple nachos, once again leaving an ample amount for Pinelove whenever she'd finish her grooming. By the time I finished my own portion of the meal, it was about time to hit the hay. The fox was still locked in the bathroom.

“Hey, I left you some dinner in the kitchen," I said by the door. “Gonna' head to bed myself. Don't worry about the dishes; I'll take care of them in the morning. Night!"

I could hear the rhythmic scratching of a brush on fur.

“Oh, hey, I'll get them!" Pinelove called back. “I'll earn my share, don't worry! Have a good night!"

Time never used to be a concern of mine. It would slip by under my nose and soon be 3 o'clock in the morning before I knew it. Then I'd sleep the whole morning away and waste half the day. But with Pinelove as a guest, my scheduled shifted up a bit. A bit more than a bit, to be precise. I was finding myself getting tired much sooner—playing host to a fantastical creature was sapping my stamina—yet the early sleep meant I was ready to face the new day with a renewed spirit when I woke up. I wasn't hating the new routine.

The next morning followed the same new way, but not before I had the dream again. The same as last night, complete with the long hallway and the faceless portraits. This time, however, the vague figure of Pinelove seemed closer to me. Or was she bigger? The perspective of the hall was dazing. I wasn't able to move or speak, but then I suddenly snapped out of it thanks to the noise of the vixen putting away the dinner pots and dishes in the kitchen, true to her word. And when I fell back asleep several minutes later, none of my dreams that followed were any more lucid.

---

[[Wednesday]]

Something heavenly smelling woke me up. I enjoyed the aroma for a while as I tried to raise my groggy body. I could also hear the hurried pattering of Pinelove's feet in the kitchen. It was if the pleasing smells were there to mask whatever mischief she was getting into in my home. I got dressed and went to check up on her.

The sight of the breakfast buffet on the counter surpassed the novelty that I still had a two-legged fox girl living with me. Stacks of waffles and toast. Mounds of glistening bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs. A bona fide cornucopia of fruit. And a half-dozen little cups of various sauces and dips. It would be a week's worth of morning meals just for me alone, but even with Pinelove's appetite I was eager to see how she would handle all this food.

“You made all of this yourself?" I said, awestruck.

“Mornin', Gray!" she yipped cheerfully, wiping her paws on a checkered apron that looked brand new. “How does it look? Couldn't just let you feed me and not repay the favor! S'alright though—you'll just have to one-up me for the next meal, huh?"

“If you're making this a contest, then I forfeit already," I said, eyeing all the food up. The more I looked at the banquet in the kitchen, though, the more I became suspicious of it.

“H-hey, what's wrong?" the vixen said, keeping a wide berth as I walked around to judge her handiwork.

“I don't see any dirty dishes or anything."

“Cleaned them up as I went along," she said. “And I took care of the ones from last night. I told you I don't want to make a mess of your place!"

That's when I noticed some paper stuck to her apron with a dollop of syrup. It looked like a sales receipt.

“You got a little something..." I said, brushing my own side to show her.

Pinelove whipped around to find it. The receipt came unstuck and fluttered to the floor. I reached down to grab it, but the vixen dropped into some masterful splits and shielded the receipt with her body.

“N-nuh uh! No touching! Remember the rules!"

She grabbed the paper and balled it up, shoving it into her shorts pocket. The fox stayed in her splits, resting her head on her arms playfully.

“So, where did you order from?" I asked.

“Cooked it all myself!" she said with a sly grin. “I know how to wield a spatula."

“Didn't you say it's been a while since you've had a 'meal meal?'"

“Well, yeah, because I didn't have decent ingredients to make anything this good where I was living. It's not like I don't know how to cook!"

“Wait, how did my phone get out here?"

“Must have left it sitting out last night? You were pretty tired."

“I don't remember buying fruit like this recently."

“You...I...I mean...."

The vixen grumbled and stood up, slapping her pocket in defeat.

“Fine, you got me." She sounded a little hurt. “I wanted to cook for you, but I suck at it. So, I just called up someplace nearby and had it delivered. Got this neat apron, too! But it's from my own expenses, I swear, so don't worry."

That wasn't what I was concerned about.

“How did you answer the door?" I said, motioning at Pinelove's billowing tail for emphasis.

“Oh. That's an easy one: I can't tell you!" she replied in the most matter-of-factly way, as though the non-answer would absolve her of everything. When my troubled expression wasn't enough for her, she ripped off the apron and cleaned herself up. “But the delivery guy didn't see a walking, talking fox take the bags, if that's what you're so jumpy about."

I didn't have the police or animal control trying to break down my apartment door, so I took Pinelove's word for it. She earned points for picking one of my favorite places, in any case, even if she did it by coincidence. The meal helped to alleviate my paranoia as well. The vixen made a valiant effort to eat through the breakfast smorgasbord, but there was enough left over to load up the refrigerator for at least a couple more days. When we finished, she sauntered over to the couch and flopped onto her back.

“Hnngh, good thing I have such a big shirt," Pinelove groaned, stretching out her heavy metal band t-shirt over her knees.

“You don't have any other clothes?" I asked. “You've worn that one every day since I met you."

Pinelove shook her head. “And it's not even mine; a friend gave it to me recently."

If it weren't for her grooming supplies, she'd be the literal example of, “Nothing but the clothes on your back." I wanted to ask more but prying still seemed to only lead to cryptic roadblocks.

“Well..." I said, “if you need another shirt or two, you can take some of mine. Can't promise you'll find anything that fits too much better."

Pinelove looked at me with wide eyes, smiling hopefully as her tail animated.

“Seriously? H-hey, that's cool of you. I won't keep it, though, unless you really don't want it anymore."

“Don't worry about it. Try on what you want. I'm going to have to do some more work this afternoon anyway, so go nuts."

Pinelove skipped into my room and began digging through my closet. I was glad I had the foresight to clean things up since she arrived, though I wouldn't be able to do much if she strayed into my dresser or started opening storage boxes. She was revealing herself to be the spontaneous sort of person who might end up running around the house with my boxers on her head. The mental image of her ears sticking out of the leg holes put me in a good mood.

I kicked on the computer and began my work. The sooner I could get done, the better. The job went smoother without having a vixen looming over my shoulder, but I was still distracted by the suspiciously quiet ruminations of my guest. My mouse cursor kept finding its way to other sites and habitually checking emails I had already read as I strayed into a daydream. I even pulled up my junk folder and clicked through the spam. I had to give myself a slap on the cheek to keep myself focused, highlighting all the junk emails and proceeding to Delete Forever so the distraction would be gone.

But in the moment I had to stare at the spam folder while everything was being erased for good, something caught my attention and made my heart skip:

[Sender: HEAD DIR. CUSTOMS]

[Subject: Housing Itinerant Vulp...]

And it was gone. I couldn't even finish the subject line, causing my brain to run wild filling in the blanks. It could have been a hallucination that my mind projected with thoughts about Pinelove. It could have been one of those phishing scams using my browsing history to craft a targeted email. I was absentmindedly slacking off during my work, checking all sorts of other sites. Or, it could have been genuinely important. But Mr. All-Smiles had my number, so it couldn't have been him, right? He seemed much more old-fashioned about using phones instead of emails.

It was all a moot point. The email was gone. Out of sight, out of mind. Trying to get back to my work was even harder now, though. I did what I could to remain on track, but when I heard a loud thud from my bedroom that was it for the day. I was just too frazzled to push onward. I would have to make the job grind another time.

“Pinelove?" I called out. “You doing okay in there?"

“Ngghaa, yeah..." she said back. “Just fell down on my butt. Sorry to bother you!"

I won't lie—it was either “fell down" or “butt" that grabbed my attention and propelled me over to the bedroom.

I found the vixen sitting on the floor innocently. She looked like a small child wearing an overstuffed winter jacket, layered in so many shirts that her arms were practically jutting out to the sides. I took one look into my closet and saw nothing but vacant clothes hangers. She really had taken every single shirt I owned and put them on at the same time.

“Guess I ate more at breakfast than I thought, hah!" the fox girl said, patting her torso where she could reach it.

I took a step forward but quickly froze in place. All I could do was shake my head.

“I'd like to help, but I'm not allowed to touch you, after all," I said, holding my palms out.

Pinelove's eyes dilated as she tried to laugh it off.

“O-oh, yeah. Well, I'm not in any trouble...like this. Just give me a second...to catch my breath...whew."

She was overheated. An anthropomorphic animal person wearing clothes was already probably warmer than a human, so what Pinelove was doing no doubt baked her insides. I ran back to the kitchen to get her some iced water while she struggled to peel off the layers one by one. I also had scissors ready to go if we had no choice but to cut her free. But the vixen rejected them, sounding more concerned about destroying my clothes than being free.

“No-no, wait!" she barked. “I can do this. Don't ruin your stuff because of me!"

It took her a few minutes to get several more layers off. She was able to pull her arms through some of the longer sleeves so I could safely grab them and help tug the clothes off. Everything would have been so much easier if I wasn't so arbitrarily restricted in using my hands....

Finally, she got down to the inner core of her clothes stack, leaving all but one shirt on.

“Oh no," I groaned, palming my forehead.

“I'll take this one," Pinelove giggled.

It was a much older shirt of mine. One I had outgrown ages ago but that now managed to fit just right on the vixen. A joke shirt I had buried deep within the closet. I bought it to harass an openly promiscuous buddy of mine, but eventually stashed it away once the prank led to sour feelings.

The shirt had a cartoon fox on it, holding an arrow pointing off to the side with text that read: He Fox Around. A childish joke that I thought was sealed away was resurfaced by the smiling vixen in front of me.

“It's my size, too," she said, looking pleased with herself.

At least she won't be walking around in public with it, I thought to myself. It was better to let that embarrassing bit of my past leave with her after our week was over, so I allowed Pinelove to keep the shirt.

We spent some time hanging up the rest of the clothes together. What started as a cute little stunt on her part turned out to be a worthwhile decluttering exercise for me, and I found a few more shirt that I no longer had any use for. Pinelove claimed a second, much plainer dress shirt and a zip-up sweater once I gave the go-ahead. Male style or not, she took it without complaint. Despite her eagerness for free stuff, though, the way she looked at the hand-me-down clothes longingly gave me the impression she was sincerely thankful for the charity. Did she really have nothing to her name besides a few toiletries and bed sheets?

I caught a glimpse of her making pen scratches on that elusive notecard of hers again. She must have seen me notice, but she said nothing about it as she squirreled it into her pocket once more. What was that about? Another unsolved mystery in the making, undoubtedly.

The evening was an uneventful one. I vacuumed up the floors around the place, while Pinelove hugged herself tightly to prevent her fur from flying around and undoing my work.

“Sooorrry," she moaned over the roar of the vacuum. “Doesn't look like you're used to having shedding pets, huh?"

“There's not much floating around," I said, shutting the noise off. “Having someone around to motivate me into cleaning was long coming, anyway. I should be the one apologizing for how dirty the floors are."

“Pfft, I've lived in spaces where you could see your footprints in the dust!" Pinelove bragged. “This is like a mansion compared to...."

She went silent. The vixen was picking up on how often she teased information she knew she couldn't (or didn't want to) divulge more information about. She sat without saying another word until I kicked on the vacuum again. The fox girl remained on the couch while I reached for the deep spots around her. I kept a safe distance and extended my arms as much as possible. That's when I noticed her mouth moving. She was having a conversion with...me?

I shut off the vacuum again.

“Sorry, were you talking to me?"

She clammed up immediately.

“Huh? No, sorry. Just mumbling to myself about stuff," she said. “I'm not good at internalizing my thoughts, if you haven't noticed. Heh...."

She didn't continue talking when I started the motor back up.

A little more cleaning and I was finished, giving me more than enough time to pop a frozen pizza into the oven for the two of us. We didn't make much small talk together, though Pinelove was mainly preoccupied with ensuring no tomato sauce stained her new t-shirt. For better or worse, she looked like she was in love with it. She even folded it up neatly for safekeeping and just wore her heavy metal one when it was time for bed. Her go-to shirt was her night shirt, evidently, though the more worn it became the more appropriate for a heavy metal band it was.

We wished each other a goodnight and parted to our respective beds. A few days into the week and nothing catastrophic happened yet. If the rest of her stay went this way, everything should pan out fine. But...then what happens?

I had the same dream again that night, with Pinelove in the hallway. This time, however, she was unmistakably closer to me, judging from the number of pictures on the walls between us. The portraits themselves even had the silhouettes of heads within them. The shapes were indistinguishable, but I could faintly make out that there were two figures in each one. Having a serial dream was equal parts intriguing and frustrating. There was little I could do to explore what they meant, but I was quickly understanding that the message would slowly become clearer with time.

Pinelove and I were getting closer.

---

[[Thursday]]

Leftover breakfast banquet was on the menu for the next morning. Pinelove was in a cheery mood until I told her I needed to run out to do a few errands. In truth, there wasn't much I needed to do, but even having some strange fox girl living in my apartment with me was no excuse to remain locked up forever. My body desperately needed the fresh air and exercise, and I didn't want to tell the vixen that to her face. She couldn't follow me out there, so why taunt her with my own freedom like that?

“Yeah, alright," Pinelove said. The jealousy was palpable. “You do your thing. I'll be right here...."

I left the fox with an apology and grabbed my car keys. I mulled over how long I should convincingly stay away in my mind; I couldn't be out too long since I had nothing to do, but I also didn't want to guilt Pinelove by cutting my “plans" too short and not actually coming home with anything to show for it. There were truths we weren't sharing with one another, but I didn't want us to start outright lying. I decided on a goal when I got down to the garage: I'd make a quick run to the mall for some more shirts—replacing the ones I threw out or gave away—then I'd pick up some lunch for the two of us. Enough time to be away from home, and not so long that Pinelove would get lonely and get herself in trouble again.

The brisk autumn air was getting colder day by day, and I could tell very shortly after arriving at the mall that all the best clothes were getting picked clean. Everyone was getting prepared to bundle up for the upcoming winter, though their precaution to stay warm wasn't so great that they were going to sacrifice good fashion in the process. As a result, virtually all the trendy jackets and shirt racks were nothing but empty, skeletal hangers. This meant I wouldn't be compelled to stay too long like I intended, though it was looking like I would return home empty-handed.

If I can't find anything I immediately love, I'll call it a day and head back, I thought.

I took a lap around the men's section and felt relatively relieved not to find anything of note. But then, by the graces of the mall gods, I found a jacket that called out to me. Sleek yet warm. Neutral, universal colors that would go with anything I had—namely, blacks and grays. One left in my size...and one too many digits in the cost than I was prepared to shell out for. Paying for overpriced clothes wasn't a common indulgence of mine, but rarely did I find something that I confidently felt was “made for me." If I left it behind, it would certainly be gone the next time I went shopping.

“It'd look good on you, Gray. Go for it!" Pinelove said.

I ripped the price tag off on accident from the shock.

“Pinelove!?"

“Look, if price is an issue, maaaybe I could dip into some of my food expenses," the vixen continued. “You'll owe me, though. And no telling anyone about this!"

My head whipped back and forth, scanning the area for bystanders. My heart raced with each shopper I counted. Miraculously, however, none of them seemed to notice the bipedal fox girl standing with me. She was wearing the sweater I gave her, and it was zipped down just far enough to tease me with the infamous He Fox Around. Dammit, Pinelove....

“What—h-how?" I stammered. “Why?"

“I snuck into the back seat," Pinelove said. “You really must have been lost in thought when you got to the car."

“That's not...! What if they see you?"

Pinelove placed a paw on my back and turned me toward a standing mirror nearby. I barely noticed my own stupid, mouth-open face, because someone else was in the reflection with me. Some other human, no less. I was standing beside a human female—blonde—with a voluminous ponytail that looked exactly like Pinelove's own bushy fox tail. The black markings around her eyes stood out far more obviously on a human face than a fox girl's, like the thick eyeshadow makeup of an Egyptian pharaoh. She was absolutely stunning for a human, almost to an otherworldly level.

And yet, something made me prefer her fox appearance.

I looked from Pinelove to the reflection in the mirror. Fox to human. She existed as both at the same time.

“How!?" I hissed

“Shhh! Look," Pinelove whispered, “I'll tell you later. Just don't make a big deal about it, alright? If I get too stressed out, it'll blow my cover. Nobody but you can see what I really look like anyway, trust me!"

I tried to settle down and accept what was happening. A few deep breaths later, I noticed the paw rubbing small circles on my back. It was the first time Pinelove touched me since I met her.

The vixen picked up on my reaction in the mirror and pulled her paw back.

“S-sorry!" she said. “Didn't mean to get all feelsy with you."

It wasn't just my preference for “fox Pinelove" over “human Pinelove" in terms of appearance. Her touch felt different, too. Even with the image of a ponytailed human looking back through the mirror at me, right in front of my eyes, my skin wasn't deceived by the strange paw-hands the fox girl possessed. There was a special padding to her palms, strength in her digits, and even a bit of feral sharpness to her nails. But all of the alien features of her biology made the touch more comfortable than even the friendliest human who ever gave my back a pat or my arm a squeeze. Was it explicitly because Pinelove was so foreign that I was fine with the physical contact? Was I really so adverse to the touch of humankind?

The vixen retracting her paw felt like she had pulled the clothes off my body out in the frigid air. I longed for more. Just another gentle touch, just for a little while longer. I gave Pinelove an appreciative smile to at least reassure her that her actions didn't upset me.

“It's alright," I said to her. “So, the sooner we get back, the sooner you'll tell me about, well, this? Promise?"

Pinelove's ears folded back sheepishly.

“Well...paaartially," she said. “I...I guess the cat's out of the bag a bit here, but I can't tell you too much. I...ah, let's agree to talk back at your place for now, okay?"

She took the trendy jacket off the racking and snatched the broken price tag from my hand.

“I'm going to buy this for you, and you're not going to say anymore until I'm ready though. Understood?"

She was outright bribing me now. I didn't even want the jacket anymore if it meant having the truth withheld from me. But a padded finger zoomed in to my lips before I could say anything else. One of her long, clawed nails waggled between my eyes. It wasn't exactly the touch I wanted, but she froze me nonetheless with her sudden forwardness.

“Not a word," she hushed. “About what you see, about the jacket, and about where all my food money went to. We'll say we splurged on a dinner party if we have to."

And if she could blush through the fur—if I could see into the mirrored version's human features close enough—I'm certain her skin would be rosy, too.

Pinelove talked relentlessly about what she wanted for lunch on the car ride back. Once we picked up the food, she changed topics to her favorite snacks. This continued for the rest of the trip home and well into our meal after we sat down. When she exhausted the subject, she switched her digression over to my new jacket and anecdotes about her own fur during the seasons.

“...And when you fluff up in the winter sometimes you feel like wearing even less than you would during the summer months. Kind of makes you self-conscious to have all that extra thickness for months at a time, and then you start losing it in clumps when it gets warmer again and it looks even worse for a while! A friend of mine kinda' goes through the same thing, but she's already much bigger than me and her fur is solid black all over, so she doesn't have to worry about weird color patterns or looking too 'buffed up' or anything, and...."

She was stalling for time, that much was obvious. Hoping to entice me with those little snippets of information about her background so I might be distracted from the main topic of conversation. I corralled her onto the couch and took a seat myself, waiting patiently for her story to end.

“...And she brags about rolling around in the snow with her boyfriend without anything on sometimes and never gets chilled, keeping them both toasty with her fur and...and...."

Out of steam at last. I poured Pinelove and me some water and gave her an interested smile.

“So, about earlier," I said.

The vixen tapped her nails on the water glass like a woodpecker would a tree. Her tail swished side to side as though sifting through the couch cushions for an answer.

“Well," she said at long last, “you saw the gist of it. I can make an illusion on myself, like a façade. Just like that."

She sipped the water, content with the finality of her words.

“You have to tell me more!" I said, almost to the point of pleading. “It's already incredible to me that a fox person like you is right here. Now you're going to just casually drop that magical illusions exist and leave it at that?"

“Doesn't seem like you're having a hard time accepting it," Pinelove said with a mischievous smirk. “What more needs to be said?"

“How about why nobody else seemed to see you how I do? And why you were a human in that mirror? And while we're at it, what was your life like growing up with that kind of ability? There's a lot more you could go over!"

I earnestly tried to keep myself from getting too worked up or forceful sounding, but my patience was being tested. So many teases and non-answers from Pinelove over these last couple days, and each new interaction with her added some new detail that compounded on the others to make the whole thing even more insane to think about.

Pinelove drained her water with a long draw before continuing.

“So...I guess I'm what you could call a 'trickster fox' or something," she said.

“Like a Japanese fox?" I said. “From folklore?"

“No. Well, no. I don't think I'm one of those, but I wouldn't know for sure. It's a long story. All I know is that I can do really simple illusions like what you saw. Making myself seem human, but you can obviously tell it's me...if you already know me. That's why you saw through the disguise right away. You heard my voice first, thought, 'Oh, it's Pinelove!' and expected to see the real me standing next to you. But the illusion gets stronger if you look at it through something fake, like a mirror, or a camera lens. It's not your own eyes taking in the illusion, so even if you know it's there, you'll probably still be tricked if you try to see me in a reflection or something."

“That answers that question, I suppose," I said. “The delivery guy saw the illusion then when he came with the food. Good to know. I'd like to hear more, though, if you don't mind."

Pinelove looked away, clutching her empty glass tightly.

“Look, it's not that I don't trust you," she began, wording it in the least convincing way. “You don't seem like the type who's going to run off and tell everyone what I am, and I really appreciate that. Honestly I do. It's...a problem with me. Telling you would stir up some stuff I don't want to go into right now. Unless...."

The vixen looked into my eyes. I could see the little flame sparkles again.

“I want to go out again with you. Tomorrow. Someplace public. Doesn't have to be too crowded—actually, it'd be better less crowded—but I don't want to be cooped up in here while you're out. Let me do that, and I'll start answering some real questions about myself."

She held out an open paw but retracted it once she realized her mistake.

“Whoop! Sorry. Deal?"

Pinelove held out her water glass in a toast instead.

She was bribing me again, but what did I have to lose? I clinked mine against hers.

“As long as nobody's going to hound us because they see a fox walking around? Fine. Where did you have in mind?"

Pinelove reached into her shorts pocket and fished out a clipping from a junk mail advertising flyer. I got a brief glimpse of that notecard she kept hiding from me, but with the way she abruptly jammed it back in deeper I knew not to press my luck asking about it. The vixen dangled the clipping closer in front of me.

“I found this discount on one of those 'escape rooms' not too far away. Saw a commercial on TV for it, too, so I figured it must be a sign, you know? It would just be the two of us if we asked for it, right?"

She wanted to leave my apartment and not be cooped up...by going someplace where we'd be literally locked in an enclosed space together? I appreciated the thought of there being nobody else but us in the escape room for a while, but there was a flaw in the plan as well. There would be a lot of touching in an escape room. Touching things other people rubbed themselves all over. Potentially touching Pinelove if we didn't have much room to navigate in. I wondered if the vixen was deliberately testing me.

She was waiting for my response with the fakest, woeful puppy-dog eyes she could muster. In her own words, I was able to see through her illusions. Still, I couldn't bear to see even an obviously feigned expression of sadness on the vulpine's face.

“You can be the puzzle solver," she said, shooting for any angle that might persuade me. “That way, you don't have to worry about touching anything. I'll sniff out all the clues and you can put them together! How does that sound, partner?"

She may have been giving me the role of solving the puzzles, but Pinelove was easily reading me like a book. Did Mr. All-Smiles prep her on my whole life story before sending her over? She knew I couldn't touch her, but how did she know about how much I tried to avoid touching everyone else?

“It's not that I have a problem with any of that..." I grumbled.

Pinelove airing out my own personal feelings in front of me was demeaning, but putting it into perspective like that made those grievances feel insignificant. Yeah, people were disgusting, and the escape room probably wasn't someplace you wanted to examine closely with white gloves. But what did it matter? I'd never be able to completely avoid the residues of humanity out in life. Much like an underworked immune system, it was probably doing me far more harm to actively avoid people all the time in my own little bubble.

“But, alright," I sighed in resignation. “Sounds like it could be fun, and if we can get a room with just the two of us, then that's a nice bonus."

“Yeah, right, a room for just the two of us," Pinelove snickered.

“Hey, don't twist my words like—!"

“I'm only kidding! But you're kind of adorable when you get flustered, Gray."

The vixen's smile was disarming, though it was at least endearing, unlike the old man's unsettling grin.

“And make sure you bring your gloves tomorrow!" she added.

I rolled my eyes.

The same dream that night. Even closer this time. I still couldn't see Pinelove's smoldering eyes under a visor of darkness, but her overall form was sharper than any of the previous nights. Her lips contorted to pained expressions—maybe even making words—but her voice was silent. The shadowy pairs in the portraits took more solid shapes, but they remained otherwise featureless. Were they spectating us? Judging us? It was making the hallway feel crowded, almost claustrophobic. Maybe some anxiety about the next day's adventure in the escape room was seeping into the dream?

---

[[Friday]]

We managed to secure a timeslot for the escape room at the last minute, scheduled in the middle of the afternoon. Pinelove was acting particularly demanding about visiting the mall again beforehand.

“There's something I saw yesterday that I want to pick up first," she said, bouncing slightly during the car ride. “Lunch is on me."

“You still have enough left over?" I said. I made sure to wear my new jacket as much as I could to show my gratitude toward Pinelove, but there was more guilt attached to it than clothing tags when I thought back to the price.

“Yes," Pinelove said. It was an uncharacteristically curt response for her. After a few moments of silence, however, she spilled the beans. “A friend of mine might be the daughter of the guy in charge of my expenses account, and she might have promised me she'll be the one monitoring it so her dad doesn't get suspicious."

“Wait, it's not our good buddy 'All-Smiles' who gave you the money?" I said.

“No, it's...."

Pinelove puckered up, giving me that “I've said too much already" look.

“We're not even talking about humans anymore, are we?" I asked, expecting futility in getting answers. “Your friend and her dad, I mean?"

“Man, I'm really looking forward to the escape room today! I bet we'll beat it faster than any other groups ever have!"

“I'm adding this to the questions for later, you know."

The two of us entered the mall through the food court, and Pinelove slipped some money into my pocket to get our lunches. She ran off to “get her thing" but managed to return before I even got to the front of the line to pay. She was swinging a small paper bag from her wrist; it was from an independent thrift store that was always popular around Halloween as a place to get cheap clothes and costumes. Considering the holiday was several weeks ago, the store was likely trying to desperately get rid of both after-Halloween returns and a ton of new merchandise customers resold to them.

“They still had it!" Pinelove said, giving the bag a pat.

“Had what?"

“You'll see later!"

Hopefully some new casual clothes, I thought. The vixen was still wearing the novelty t-shirt I gave her under the sweater. I noticed she was conveniently standing on the side of me where the cartoon fox would be pointing the He Fox Around sign.

We ate our lunches and people-watched for a while, killing time before we had to leave for our escape room timeslot. Pinelove's head jerked back and forth at those who wandered the closest to us, almost cautiously. We seemed to have a mutual distaste for crowds, though it was impressive that she ran off by herself for her errand among the throngs of people milling about.

When I complimented her on that, she rubbed the back of her neck.

“There's a chance I used some other kinds of illusion tricks to sort of, uh, disappear until I got to the store," she whispered. “You're right, I don't like being around crowds. I do better when I'm with someone I trust, but I'm still afraid the disguise will fail if I'm all alone for a long time. So...it's easier to just...pop out of sight and avoid everyone."

Pinelove looked ashamed.

“Kind of a coward, aren't I?"

“I'd never call you that when you have to hide what you are like this," I said, shaking my head. “I don't know if I'd have to nerve to pull off what you're doing if I were in your position, and I still think it's pretty amazing you have that kind of ability in the first place, honestly."

Pinelove puffed up her chest with newfound confidence.

“You really think so?...Y-yeah! Thanks, Gray. Even my friend can't do a trick like this naturally. If she'd want to walk among humans, she has to use a special collar she got from...uh—"

“Is she your best friend?" I chimed in, picking up that Pinelove was careening down one of her “I shouldn't be talking about that" moments. “It sounds like you're really fond of her, if it's the same one you've been talking about in all your stories."

The vixen became much more soft-spoken from my question. She held her elbows and stared down at her feet.

“Well, I guess she is. I-I don't think I'd be considered her best friend, though. I mean, she has her boyfriend, and they're absolutely smitten with each other. I'm just sort of an outsider who doesn't have any friends left, so she's really the first one I've had in a while...just because she's the only one who I could really talk to."

Pinelove looked at me again, this time with a look of remorse.

“What about you? I noticed you haven't been going out to meet with anyone else, and I can't imagine you'd be comfortable inviting anyone over as long as I'm staying with you. Do you have a lot of friends? A...girlfriend? Am I...keeping them from you?"

I started to feel a dull tingle in my arm. I used to get that kind of sensation with stress, but this time it was different. It was the ache of wanting to comfort someone but being forbidden from doing so. Words weren't enough; I wanted to put my hand on her shoulder, or her paw, or, maybe, pat her on the head? But my arm itself was telling me not to move. Don't touch her, or you'll ruin the agreement you have with the old man. You'll only make it worse.

Was this how kind-hearted strangers felt when they saw a sad sack like me moping around town, avoiding any sort of human interaction? They wanted to be cordial to me, and I just avoided them? I tried to shake off the tingle and do all that I could to show sincerity to the vixen.

“No, not at all," I said. “I don't have many friends anymore either. Most of the ones I still keep in touch with moved away years ago. Don't worry, you're not keeping me from anyone."

I took out my phone and showed Pinelove the time.

“The only thing either of us is keeping the other one from is our escape room! We should probably get going if we want to be there on time."

It was a rather clumsy way to give solace to Pinelove, but it was the best I had to work with my limited techniques. Fortunately, it was satisfactory enough for the fox girl.

“Ooh, yeah, let's roll then!" she said, swinging her bag excitedly. “I'm going to need to change in the car first before we go inside. No peeking until we get there!"

The escape room we signed up for was one of three hosted by a small, independent company on the edge of the city. They rotated the “objectives" and themes of the rooms periodically, but they were all new to me anyway. They rarely ever did solo experiences, and when they had them they were far more expensive than what you would pay for your own ticket as part of a larger group. Just adding a second participant made it much more financially tolerable. The vixen's coupon knocked a few dollars off as well.

“That discount was a really good find," I said to the fox girl as she changed in the back seat. “Nice job, Pinelove."

“That's Detective Pinelove from here on out!"

Her “surprise" from the mall thrift store was a checkered detective's costume. Child size, from the looks of it; there was a petite cape that barely draped over her shoulders and her hat wasn't “on" her head so much as it was just being held in place by her pointed ears.

She tried to wear an intellectual, thoughtful look on her face as she gnawed on a little plastic pipe, but she quickly deduced what the expression on my face was trying to tell her about the size. Guess the clothes make the fox, I thought.

“Now you know why I haven't been buying my own shirts," Pinelove grumbled, tugging on her cape. “I can't figure out sizes at all."

At least the guy at the check-in counter admired the effort. He looked at Pinelove's classical detective attire and then at my sleek jacket and gloves combo. I suppose I did have a bit of a “modern" detective look, if entirely by accident.

“Hey, glad to see someone dressing up!" the scruffy, college-age guy said. “I like to see it! Damn, I wish my own friends got more into this sort of stuff...."

Pinelove gave me a smug wink.

We were led into a small entryway to watch a short introduction video—part story synopsis and part safety rules briefing—and then we were taken to the starting room.

“Alright, you got everything?" the guy said, reading off a clipboard. “You guys are paranormal investigators, and you got sixty minutes to sneak into the abandoned factory, reach the lair of the mythical lightning beast, and find a way to release it before the shadowy government agents find you. Any questions? Alright, good luck you two!"

And with that, we were locked in, just Pinelove and me. The first room looked like a deliveries office to a warehouse in an old industrial park, blocking our way forward with a locked door behind the desk.

“I kind of expected more detective-y investigation," Pinelove said, looking around at the layout in front of us. “Like a crime scene sort of thing."

“It was one of the few slots they had left on such short notice," I said. “And I wasn't sure if you'd stomach the Slaughterhouse Escape one that was our only alternative."

“Yeah, no. Good call," Pinelove said, giving a shiver.

In all fairness, I was a little squeamish at the thought of it, too.

The escape room was three chambers of increasingly complex puzzles and riddles. Once we found the key to progress past the office door a few minutes in, we entered into a much larger factory, which in turn was connected to another smaller power generator room where we would be using all of our collected clues to solve the final puzzle. Ambient lights and muffled growling noises played on loop in the final room, where the “beast" was supposed to be lurking, waiting to be set free.

Pinelove was eager to grab anything not bolted down, dumping all the clues on a table in the factory room and then running off to explore more of the scenery. She managed to find a crawlspace in an overturned oil drum and darted inside, her fox instincts taking over. Her voluminous, fluffy tail wagged out the opening of the drum like an exhaust flame. Meanwhile, I was compiling the clues and trying to make sense of everything.

“We have three kinds of keys here," I said, realizing I was likely talking to myself as Pinelove crawled around just out of sight. “It seems like we need to put them into a lock in a particular order. I'm guessing the teeth on the keys are the clues, since they're shaped like the fangs of the Cerberus logo on this cigarette lighter that rolled out of the conveyor belt. Now, we also found a book in the office that referenced the Cerberus and its red eyes next to a beginner's painting guide with a clue about primary colors. So, excluding red...there's blue and yellow? Yellow for the lightning beast, blue for, what, rain? Back in the factory, I noticed—"

There was a loud click coming from the final generator room. A low-quality recording of thunder and the howl of some feral creature played along with a series of strobe lights.

“I think I got it!" Pinelove called out from the room.

I hurried over to the vixen. Sure enough, the exit door was unlocked and ajar.

“There were a lot of scents lingering around the back of this one pipe, and when I poked around I found the secret switch to the door!"

Pinelove beamed at me with pride. Then she noticed the clues I was still carrying in my hands and her expression became crestfallen.

“O-oh, I wasn't supposed to find that switch without solving all the other puzzles first, huh? I ruined the fun...."

We must have skipped over half of the escape room thanks to the fox girl's nose. There's no way the attendants wouldn't think we cheated or knew the answers beforehand.

“Hey," I said, giving the vixen an open-armed “air hug" from a safe distance, “it's still worth celebrating. The 'beast' is free and happy, and that was probably the fastest victory they've ever had here!"

“Yeah, but—" Pinelove said.

“Were you having fun, at least?"

“I did," the vixen said. “I mean, I was, up until I realized I spoiled it. What about you?"

“I had fun if you did."

That was checkmate. Pinelove may have skipped all the puzzles, but she wouldn't beat me at chess. She groaned in response like I told a corny joke. It probably was, in retrospect, but the vixen took it to heart nonetheless.

“That was pretty cheesy," she chuckled under her breath. “But thanks. Yeah, I had fun. I appreciate you humoring me with this, Gray. You weren't the one to sabotage the game—that was all on me. A promise is a promise, though. When we get back to your place, we'll have that talk...about whatever you want."

“We still have time left in here," I said with a shrug. “We could hang around a bit longer. Might want to pretend to solve some of these puzzles so they don't get suspicious."

Pinelove's lips pulled back into a forced smile, like she knew she was going to have the last photograph of her life taken.

“No...no, I'm good," she said. “I've been psyching myself up for our 'talk' all afternoon. Let's just get through this."

“We don't have to if—" I started.

“I owe it to you," the vixen said bluntly. “I can't keep my mouth shut at all, and I torment you ever single time I open it. You deserve to know some things before I have to leave."

She nodded to herself with finality.

“Let's get going, then. Please?"

I started to feel like the bad guy, pressuring her into something that was very plainly troubling her. But now she was flipping the roles around and making it seem like it was her idea all along, and I would be the villain if I were to stop her from airing out her laundry. We decided to leave, running into a shocked escape room attendant on our way out.

“Holy sh—you guys got done fast!" he said, looking at the timer by the exit door. “I thought you were dressing up to be cute. Didn't think you were actually this serious about it!"

He dug into a desk drawer and pulled out a small plush toy of the “mythical lighting beast" Pinelove and I were supposedly helping. It was mostly black like a shadow, but it had obvious canine features and some blue and yellow highlights on its ears and tail.

Sort of deflates the terror of the thing a bit, I thought, letting Pinelove take it for herself. The plush toy was far more adorable than the growls in the background made it seem.

“How about a picture to go home with, too?" the attendant said.

“Oh no, this is all we need!" Pinelove said, giving the plush toy a squeeze. “I don't take a good picture anyway...."

She gave me a sly wink.

Our ride back to the apartment was uncomfortably quiet. I could tell Pinelove was mentally preparing her story the entire way. The plush toy sat in her lap diligently. Once we got back to the garage, I gave the vixen her own “escape room" opportunity.

“Last chance to back—"

“_Nope."_

“_If you're not up for it today—"_

“Nope!"

I tried.

We got inside, sat on the couch, and unwound for a moment. I shut off my phone and removed any distractions. Pinelove turned down all drink offers, especially the alcoholic ones. I opened a bottle for myself. The anticipation felt like pulling teeth, and I was the one with the plyers.

She sighed deeply. Then again. The vixen gave me one last look as if daring me to give her the option to back out again. At last, she was ready.

“So, I didn't know who my parents were...."

I took a drink on Pinelove's behalf. I knew from the first sentence we were going to be getting into some rough territory.

“Well, that's something else entirely, I guess," she continued. “I got through my childhood without them, so there's nothing to tell. They might not even be alive anymore. It's not particularly important to where we are today, so whatever."

She was amazingly composed about it, but I trusted her so far. The fox girl was going to proceed with her tale, and if I fixated on her missing parents too long I'd just be left behind.

“I grew up in a pretty rural little town. The kind that feels like it exists in another whole world, where you only get a glimpse of the big city life and its people through the TV and the occasional visitor. The kind where everyone knows and supports each other like a big family, but every decade or so there's some tragedy that really spooks everyone, like a serial killing or something else tragic that would shake them up for years. So, they were...superstitious about things. Very spiritual, and a little paranoid."

“Wait, was this a human town?" I asked.

Pinelove nodded.

“Again, not sure how I ended up there really, but I was raised by some old guy. And no, not that one. This was a former professor from a school across the country who retired to the little town for some peace and quiet...and ended up with a little fox girl for an adopted daughter when she was left sitting in the flowerbed in his backyard. I was a toddler then. The first year or two of my life with him, I vaguely remember living pretty much inside his home at all times. He was trying to protect me from the townsfolk, I guess. Must have always known the thing I was right away—besides being a fox, I mean—because he was big into mystic crap and occult stuff. Had it all over the place in his study. Books, scrolls, little statues. When I got a little older, he figured out that I was 'magical' and helped me practice how to use my illusion tricks. I figured out how to look human to everyone else, and as long as I had my 'Gramps' around I could keep the trick going."

The vixen looked up to the ceiling and smiled.

“That meant I could go out into the town and meet everyone else when I was old enough. I made friends with the human kids and got to play with them every day. Still studied at home with the old man, though. He was worried about them finding out about me, you know? Like, if I had some accident with my disguise at the public school and it blew my cover. I got bullied a little bit for being 'weird,' but who didn't? It was nice just to have a community that felt like a family after I was grown up enough to know what I was actually missing. I learned not to miss the birth parents I didn't know, because I had Gramps and all of my friends. Everything was pretty great, all things considered. Until a couple years ago."

The air in the apartment immediately changed. Pinelove swallowed harshly.

“Gramps...died. It was pretty sudden, but I knew it was coming someday. He was showing his age more and more every month. H-he kept making plans to leave the town with me to look for...something. Started off saying it was like a vacation, but eventually admitted it would be p-permanent. I bet it was someplace I could live where he knew I'd be safe after he'd pass on. But we never got that far. And between his death and m-my sudden loneliness...."

The next few words didn't make it out the first time. Pinelove snorted back some tears and buried her snout between her knees.

“W-With him gone, I c-couldn't...couldn't keep the disguises going. I was too b-broken up to c-concentrate on my abilities. Everyone in town saw me for what I was. And then they blamed me for gramps' death!"

Her ears folded back farther than I thought she was capable of.

“S-so yeah, of course that had to happen to me. A monster, a freak in a remote little town that believed every urban legend they invented. They forgot about the 'human girl' that played with their kids all those years and only s-saw me as a demon. It's like I never existed in their memories the moment they decided they wanted me dead! And...and...a-and...."

There was a much, much longer pause before Pinelove proceeded. She sobbed gently into her knees. I felt a paralyzing pain in my chest from being unable to comfort her. Should I try to hug her, or anything? I thought to myself. But what if Mr. All-Smiles' words about her being taken away if I touched her were true? I might never hear the end of the story.

Pinelove wiped away her tears and powered through with the story, keeping her voice held together a little better this time.

“Well, they chased me through the town all night. Every time they got close enough, they beat me. Sticks, rocks, shovels, anything h-hard or metal they could grab. The ones who didn't chase me right away went home for their guns. I don't know why they didn't shoot me immediately; I think because they wanted to rip me open while I was s-still alive or something. See what I was inside, right? H-hahah...anyway, I made it out of town and fled on foot for miles. Spent a couple nights out in the wild, then tried my luck in another town."

The fox girl's bushy tail wrapped around her legs.

“That was the start of my next chapter, I guess. A much shorter one, too. I lived in the new town for a little over a year. I was so scared shitless of being found out again that I rediscovered how to use my illusion tricks, like out of desperation, maybe? I got them to stick pretty effortlessly, too. But...I still looked like me to myself, you know? Every time I showed my 'human' face in public, I was deathly afraid of someone seeing a fox and everything going wrong all over again! I was hiding out in abandoned buildings—homeless—stealing a lot of food and medicine until I could find some part-time work at some shops around the area. But then I'd get fired within a week because I couldn't talk to people and wouldn't let them anywhere near me."

She wouldn't let anyone touch her, I thought. Sounded a lot like me, except my excuses were laughably petty in comparison. Pinelove had a genuine reason to be afraid of coming in contact with others, yet in spite of it all she was trying to find somewhere to belong again. I felt sick from recognizing my own immaturity.

“Jumping ahead to, like, half a year ago," Pinelove went on, “I was found out again. But this time, it was by...'my' people, I guess you could call them? Not foxes; other 'monster' people. Different creatures and magical things that Gramps was always studying about. Like, imagine if there was a 'world' where everything you'd see at Halloween lived. They somehow heard of what happened in my hometown and tracked me down to where I was hiding. I must have screwed up big time in their eyes for them to come all the way out there looking for me."

The vixen chuckled gravely.

“Figures. Gramps was trying to find some way to connect to that other world of creatures all his life, but he didn't have the money to travel and find them, or the knowledge to get in touch with any of them. So, it wasn't until after he died and I 'exposed' myself to humans that they came in to clean things up. They took me to one of their own towns to live, and that's my current home. Gulchgut. Sounds lovely, huh?"

For the first time since beginning her story, Pinelove looked me in the eyes.

“They're all extremely generous there, especially that best friend of mine, but I can't get used to it. I grew up with humans, and I still want to be with humans. Even if I found a whole country of foxes just like me, I don't think I can ever relate to any of them! Just being with you here these last few days made me feel like I was back in my old hometown more than I ever felt in all the months of being with those other creatures."

I showed her a sympathetic smile and waited for a good time to jump in.

“Alright...wow," I said. “I...so, how exactly did you end up coming here? Is that smiley old guy secretly a monster, too?"

I braced myself for what I might finally learn about Mr. All-Smiles, but Pinelove surprised me with a shake of her head.

“Don't think so. He's a little like Gramps was, I'd say; he knows a lot more about monsters and magic and stuff, and he must get in touch with them pretty often. Some sort of intermediary, maybe? Smiling Old Guy does things over here with humans, and there are some who keep tabs on the other world. Running the 'borders' between the two, from what I was told. I met some really, really, really big dog dude in that other world. 'Customs Office,' or whatever."

The spam email from a few days ago popped into my mind; I had to delete it from memory as well to make the sudden chill I was feeling go away.

“Anyway, a lot of the other monsters in my foster town went to persuade the big guy to let me find a way to be with humans again. I don't think it worked, though, until some other monster lady finally got through to him by herself. Never met her, but she sounded powerful from the rumors I heard. Supposedly, she knows that old smiling guy, too, and they pulled some strings so he could set me up on this little visit at the last minute after he met you."

And the rest became history.

“It's a 'visit' then?" I said. “You're not some employee with All-Smiles just helping him out with people like me?"

Pinelove broke away from my gaze and returned to her knees.

“That I can't say. I-I'm sorry. I got to tell you so much just now, but I don't even know myself what happens next. All I was told was to live with you for the week and 'be successful' at getting along with my host. So...yeah. I want to tell you more. I genuinely do."

Pinelove snorted again. I got a box of tissues for her; it was the bare minimum I could provide to ease her pain when I wasn't allowed to physically comfort her.

“Thank you, Pinelove," I said. “I really appreciate you telling me all this. Honestly. But...."

How to brighten her up? Think....

I pointed to her metal band t-shirt.

“You never explained where that fit into your story."

The vixen sniffed, then choked back a giggle, caught off guard by my terrible joke. The giggle rebounded from her chest into a full belly laugh, and I had to wait a full minute for her to calm down. And when she did, she didn't stop talking for what felt like an hour.

“H-hah, this? A-alright, so I didn't have really any belongings to bring with me when I was taken to the monster world. Almost no clothes or anything! So, when I was filling out some paperwork with that big 'Customs' guy I told you about, he pulled this shirt from his desk drawer. And he was like, 'It is my daughter's favorite musical ensemble, and she brought me home a souvenir in the largest size they had available. But it was seventy sizes still too small for me even in my younger days, so I bestow it onto you.' Always talked snooty like that. And the guy has three heads too, so how was he ever going to wear a normal shirt like this? I guess he could put his other two heads through the sleeves and cut more holes in the sides to make a tank top?"

I had no idea what Pinelove was saying shortly into her story. I was lost in a sea of minor details and a whiplash of tangents, but I loved every bit of her rambling recount of this fabled “monster world" she came from.

We were both extremely tired after such a long day of fun and heartache. Pinelove made her bed early into the night, though she looked restless lying on the couch. We exchanged our goodnights and I headed off to my own room. Once under the covers, I fluffed the bed sheets and let them slowly drift on top of my body. The rushing air sounded faintly like the roar of receding ocean waves. The room was almost completely silent when I head the vixen's soft voice outside of my door.

“Hey, Gray, can I talk some more?"

“Huh? Yeah, yeah. Let me get the light—"

“No, it's fine!" she said in a hushed tone, like we were two kids at a sleepover trying not to wake the parents. She slipped inside my bedroom, once again draped in that oversized band shirt of hers. Her fiery eyes illuminated the room enough for the two of us to see each other.

“What did you want to—?" I said.

I didn't have time to finish. Pinelove flung the sheets up on the vacant side of my bed and slid under them. I was too taken aback to do anything. In moments, we were almost nose to nose.

“Look, Gray..." she whispered. “This...h-hah...this is your fault."

“What?"

“You made me talk about my skeletons, and now I'm going to have nightmares. I know I will. It always happens when I think too much about it. So...can I just take this half for tonight? Please?"

It was only a queen-size bed, so there wasn't a generous amount of room between the two of us without risk of violating Mr. All-Smiles' “no touching" condition.

“What if I get too close?" I asked. “What if I bump you in the middle of the night with my hands?"

“Is 'bumping' what you call it?" Pinelove said in a deep, mocking voice.

She blew a raspberry into my face before sliding back out of the covers.

“Fine, don't worry, we can use this," she said.

She slinked into my closet and came back out with a massive body pillow. When she would have discovered it during her stay, I could only imagine with utter embarrassment. Probably when she was raiding my clothing selection. Thank the stars I had taken the special “printed pillow cover" off and gotten rid of it years ago.

She stuffed the pillow in the spot between us, leaving even less room for our bodies. I was borderline falling off my side of the bed. Pinelove sounded as though she was in absolute rapture, however.

“G'night," she sighed.

“Goodnight..." I mumbled.

It all happened too fast for me to stress about. It was the first time I had a female in my bed, and she wasn't human either. She was also pained in a way beyond anything I could pretend to empathize with, and my heart told the rest of my body that tonight was not a milestone of maturity that was going to be celebrated. Sharing a bed with a girl for the first time would have to be uneventful, for her sake. Pinelove deserved the good rest, and I would continue to follow my instructions from Mr. All-Smiles. The finish line was drawing nearer.

My dream returned that night. She was closer than ever now. Her eyes were radiating, and her features were almost fully outlined. I kept fading in and out of consciousness, but in both states of reality the vixen felt the same distance away from me. The portrait denizens weren't any more focused than before, but I could tell they were alive within their frames. Talking amongst themselves. Talking about us.

They were talking with encouragement.

---

[[Saturday]]

Saturday. The week was nearing its end. Pinelove and I had definitely become more acquainted to one another, judging from the fact that we both woke up still in the same room. The body pillow had been tossed to the foot of the bed at some point in the night, sending a brief fright through my body. But the vixen kept space between our bodies, and since she was still in the apartment with me, I assumed there was no accidental “bumping" while we slept.

Were we that fortunate, or was the whole “no touching" rule a lie this whole time?

I decided not to take any chances, getting out from under the sheets and dressing myself while Pinelove stirred awake.

“Ahhhoooohhhhmmm," she yawned with a wide stretch. “Mornin', Gray."

“Did you sleep alright?" I said. “Hopefully no nightmares?"

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, guess not!" the vixen said, rubbing her eyes. “Can't remember what kind of dreams I had, but I know it wasn't anything bad like whenever I think about...past stuff...."

Pinelove spotted the rain out the window before I did.

“Looks like crap out there. Well, shoot. I was hoping we could go out exploring some more today."

She sighed into her pillow.

“We're running out of time," I could faintly hear her mumble to herself.

“What was that?" I said instinctively.

“A-ah, nothing," Pinelove said. “I was just talking to myself. We don't have much time until, uh, winter."

She didn't look at me when she said that.

I got changed while Pinelove lay in bed for a while longer. Putting on my shirt felt like a chore, as my shoulder blades refused to flex and move properly. My pained grunts must have been picked up by the fox girl's sensitive ears.

“What's wrong?" she said. Her concern was enough to finally get her out of bed.

“Just a little sore," I said, trying to stretch the pain out. “Might have slept funny last night."

I was worried Pinelove would be offended by that, but she didn't seem to take it personally.

“You want a back rub?" she said. The vixen sounded completely serious.

“No, no thanks," I said. “It'll go away soon."

That was what seemed to put Pinelove down the most. She was visibly hurt by the rejection.

“Alright," she said. “Let me know if you change your mind.

Thanks to the rain, the morning was a wash. There was nothing outdoors we could do, and even driving around with a car roof overhead didn't make going out in the cold feel worthwhile. The weather was expected to improve for Sunday, so Pinelove and I resigned to going out on another adventure the next day. The last day we would probably have together before she would leave. Would it happen when midnight rolled around, or would she leave right at 7 in the evening, like when she originally arrived? The week had flown by so quickly, and I was truthfully afraid of what was going to occur.

Pinelove was in charge of planning the Sunday fun after we ate lunch. Meanwhile, I was tending to my computer work, hoping to get as much done as possible ahead of schedule so the next two days would be open. Just in case. Sitting at my desk was excruciating, though. My back soreness was too distracting to ignore, and I had to take frequent breaks to stretch myself out. Whatever had happened last night really messed my body up.

“Still bothering you?" the vixen said softly, the concern plain as day on her face.

“It's getting a little better," I lied. A popping noise in my spine betrayed me.

Pinelove's expression went from sympathy to steely resolve. Then she masked it with a layer of geniality. What was she concocting?

“Hey, lie down on the couch for a bit," she said. “On your belly."

I shot the vixen a suspicious look, but she simply deflected with a warm smile. Doing what she said, I stretched out on the couch and rested my head on my hands, letting my eyes close peacefully.

“Just say the word if it starts to hurt," she said, hovering over me.

The heat from her body grew as I felt her approaching even closer. She placed a paw on the small of my back, and a wave of electricity ran from the contact point all the way to my toes and forehead. The first touch from another living being I've had since Pinelove placed a paw on my back in the mall. And before that? It's been years. But unlike the mall, I was vulnerable and relaxed. I was anticipating something, and the suspenseful waiting made the contact thrilling.

The next touch was less intense, joining her first paw, but I was thankful she eased into it. Once both paws were in place, Pinelove began to make slow rubbing motions up and down my spine. Every push and pull felt like all the muscles in my back were being rearranged, and they never settled into the same spot again. A foreign but familiar feeling, like reorganizing all the furniture in your house. It didn't feel like my back anymore, but the sensations were still there and still passed the dopamine rush throughout my body.

“Doing okay?"

I groaned in affirmation.

I panicked that Pinelove took my noises the wrong way when she suddenly stopped massaging my back. Then my heart raced as she got even closer. Pinelove climbed onto the couch on her knees and was straddling my body. Her tail rested between my legs and her thighs pressed against my sides. Her paws dug into my shoulder blades, with her motions ending in the gentlest raking of her nails. She glided her claws up the hairs on my neck and combed through my scalp. The tingle her nails caused made me think of novelty “head scratchers" sold at the mall, but the rush of endorphins was magnified tenfold coming from another living being. It was the difference between trying to tickle yourself and having someone else do it to you. She was no masseuse, but the care she tried to put into each touch was more relaxing than the tension any “professional" could possibly rub out of me. And yet, just as I was fading into a tranquil state of pleasure, Pinelove stopped.

Not a single word was said by either of us. I didn't want it to be over, but I didn't want to beg her to go on. What she did for me was above and beyond what I could have ever asked for. I felt the couch depress as her knees sunk in deeper, then a paw was planted right before my face. A moment later, the entire weight of the fox girl eased down onto my back as she laid herself over me. Her head rested in the crook of my neck, and her paws moved to my shoulders to hang on to me for balance.

“Still doing alright?" Pinelove murmured into my ear. I heard her words through my back from her chest. The oversized t-shirt masked the true litheness of her vulpine form, but even through the fabric I could trace the feminine curves of her body from how she settled into my back. She took her paws off my shoulders and looped them under my torso, wrapping me up in her furry arms.

“Mmmhmm," I groaned again. “Not fair, though. Would be perfect if I was allowed return the favor to you."

Pinelove didn't respond, but I felt her tense up.

We lay together and let time go unsupervised. She was a blanket of vulpine fluff that heated my cold body on a rainy day. Her weight alone—as light as she was for such a small girl—made me feel safe on my own couch. The nuzzling of her head on the nape of my neck felt like a welcomed pillow that wanted to love you back. Every stray thought I had about moving or getting up was met with Pinelove curling into my back and tightening her grip around me. Her stomach was pressed so flatly against my back that I couldn't possibly miss the rumble of hunger as evening arrived.

“Is it time for dinner?" I said, lifting my head up as much as the vixen allowed.

“Nnnnhh," she moaned.

“Come on, I'll start making something. Maybe some soup for a cold night?"

Pinelove sighed dramatically.

I did my best to push myself off the couch, but Pinelove kept her arms bound to me. She locked her legs around my waist as well, and I staggered into the kitchen with a full-body fox backpack. She was thankfully light enough that I could prepare the soup with her on me the whole while, though when the meal was ready, I was feeling the strain in my muscles. A ploy to give me another massage, maybe?

I got her off my back long enough to enjoy dinner. Pinelove still looked tired, but her eyes had a haze of contentedness. The smile she wore was either from the soup or the nap, but as long as she was happy, I couldn't care what it was I did right.

“Early night tonight?" I said.

That ruined the mood.

Pinelove snapped out of her reverie, though she did her best not to show her panic.

“Um, yeah, if you're that tired," she said. “Can I...use your bed again tonight? With you?"

“With the body pillow?" I chuckled. Hopefully my back would get used to sleeping like that for another night.

“Y-yeah, if we need to," the vixen said.

We cleaned up after dinner and prepared for sleep. I stuffed the body pillow back under the sheets in the middle of the bed, but before I could slip in under the covers Pinelove had already grabbed the pillow and thrown it on the floor. We stared at each other, breathlessly.

Pinelove rubbed her elbow and drew circles in the carpet with a toe.

“Hey, Gray, I...uh...."

The vixen seized the bottom of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head, letting it drop to the floor without a second thought. She was wearing a small camisole underneath, cut far up her abdomen and barely reaching past her bustline. She also wore a silky, loose pair of shorts that I imagined was normally covered by her massive t-shirt when she took off her daytime jean shorts. These nighttime shorts had a hole in the back to allow her tail freedom to move.

It was the most of her furred body I had seen since we met.

“You were complaining about not repaying me earlier, so...maybe we can try, c—ah, cuddling a little tonight?"

My cheeks were flushed. I felt the little devil of temptation on my shoulder.

“B-uh, the...my hands," I said, holding my palms out like they were irradiated.

“It'll be fine!" Pinelove blurted out. She crinkled the hem of her camisole nervously. “Look, the old guy doesn't have to know we did this. He won't! I don't think...he won't!"

She crawled into bed with her face fixed toward mine.

“It'll be fine," she repeated, “if I say it will be. Please?"

I was shivering. Maybe from the cold, or maybe from my nerves. But regardless, the chills motivated me to join Pinelove under the covers. I was afraid of what was going to happen to her, both when I touched her and when our week together would be over. The vixen brushed my face with her paw and invited me to do the same with a pleading furrow of her brows.

My hand hovered over her furred cheek, trepidation keeping it away like the angry orange glow of a stovetop; would I be burned if I touched her? It was time to rip the bandage off, and see what fate had in store for us. I closed my eyes and let gravity pull my hand down.

Not too fast, of course. I didn't want to slap the poor girl on accident.

Her fur tickled my palm first, and then I felt the warmth of her skin underneath the hairs. I slowly opened my eyes, finding hers glistening with moisture. A tiny droplet slid down to her cheek, disappearing into the fluff. I reached over with my thumb and stroked the spot where the tear last was. The fox girl was still there.

So, it was all a lie after all? I thought. Or just a warning, like a protective father would threaten his daughter's new boyfriend with?

My hand explored Pinelove's head, traveling from her cheek to the base of her ear. I scratched the back, then ran my fingers along the thin edges up to her vulpine tips. My fingers continued down the front of her face and cupped her muzzle, scratching her chin and gently rubbing close to her nose and whiskers.

“See?" she mouthed in silence.

A suffocating weight was lifted from my chest at last. I was eager to show Pinelove all the affection she deserved—repay all the affection she gave me over the past few days. But she was visibly still timid herself, and I would need to take my time to make her feel as safe as I could.

My touch moved on from her head to her neck. She must have started growing her winter coat, like she mentioned. The deep scruff was heavenly, and the fur entangled my hand in a forest of softness. It would have to remain there for a while, forcing me to use my other hand to continue the first's work. I rubbed her back in small circles, risking more distance further and further down with every rotation. My fingers brushed the base of her tail, and Pinelove's entire body lurched forward into me.

She let out a surprised yip, and I stammered an apology.

“S-s-sorry! Sorry!"

“It's fine, it's fine!" she said with an equal amount of fluster and shyness.

That was the limit of what I'd dare try for the night. My overzealous hand resigned to her hip, rubbing gently up and down her side. The other was content with her neck fluff.

“Thank you," she whispered. “I...."

Her lips parted and her mouth opened and closed like the tide of an ocean, in rhythm with the stroking of her neck and sides.

“I...." she said again, trying to get the words out each time she could find some breath for them.

The deflating stress and anxiety I felt all week was draining me of my energy. I couldn't keep up the rubbing any longer. My arms snaked behind the vixen until I could pull her against my chest.

“I...hmmm...." she said, the words decompressed from her lungs when I embraced her. The fox girl was tired, too, and I had just squeezed the last of her strength out of her voice. All the sound she could make were blissful coos into my ear.

I regretted not letting her finish her thought, but at that moment our bodies were in perfect harmony with each other. Her bushy tail wrapped around my waist to seal our entwinement. We felt so natural together it didn't even feel as though I was holding onto another living being, but the steady deep breathing from the vixen fading into dreamland reassured me that she was truly there.

And when my own dreams began to mix with what was left of my lucidity, we were together in the hallway as well. It wasn't a long stretch of emptiness anymore. It wasn't even a hallway after all. We were in a cozy, dim room, where silhouettes of beaming couples watched us from the picture frames in what I knew was adoration. I paid them no mind, though; Pinelove's love was all that mattered to me.

We drifted off to sleep together, with not the slimmest amount of space left between us.

---

[[Sunday]]

Winter came early. It wouldn't arrive for another few weeks according to the calendar, but my bedroom was unnaturally cold when the fog around my mind began to dissipate. I couldn't stop my body from shivering.

“Morning..." I mumbled.

My hands searched out for the vixen's body. I pulled the first solid object I could find closer, but it was too soft and gave away too easily in my grip. My eyelids flung open to examine what I was holding.

It was the body pillow.

“Pinelove...?"

There was no more chill. My blood pumped heated worry from head to toe. I sprang up and scanned the bedroom. The fox girl was missing. Her t-shirt wasn't on the floor anymore, either.

“Pinelove?" I called out loudly.

No reply.

I ignored my own clothes and raced out of the bedroom, checking the bathroom on my way to the kitchen. No hair nor hide of the fox in sight.

“Pinelove—!"

The living room was empty. Her backpack was gone. Her tote bag was gone. The couch was naked without her bedsheets. I couldn't even find a single strand of her golden fur anywhere. To say my heart sank would have been an understatement. I was devastated. I felt nauseous. I practically crashed headfirst into the couch as my shaky legs suddenly gave up on me.

What happened!? I thought. What went wrong? Did I screw up after all?

Then I saw it on the kitchen counter: the notecard. The small rectangle of paper Pinelove kept hiding away in the corner of my eye when I looked over at her. It was propped up against the wall, like it was expecting me. The only proof left that the fox girl had ever been in my life.

I stumbled over to the counter and grabbed the notecard.

[T.O.U.C.H.<3]

It reminded me a lot of a bingo card, but with only two rows: one row of letters and one row of “play" spaces where the numbers would be. Under each letter in the play boxes was a single objective.

[T: Truth – Reveal your true self to your partner.]

[O: Outdoors – Step out of your partner's home and face the world.]

[U: Underneath – Share an enclosed space with your partner.]

[C: Clothes – Wear articles of your partner's clothes.]

[H: Hold – Embrace your partner with confidence.]

[<3_ : The ultimate test.]_

Every box except the one with the heart was checked off with ink. There was a faint pen mark in that final heart space, but it was clearly not “finished" compared to the rest.

Each one of the objectives made sense as I read them. The second I met Pinelove, she was already showing me her “true" fox self. We went out in public together. She wore my clothes—pretty much all of them, to boot. She clung to me on the couch and in the bed, under the covers, no less. But that last one? The unfinished space? I had a dismal suspicion what it was meant to represent, but my own heart wouldn't accept it.

My phone rang, and I answered it out of instinct.

“H-hello?"

“Good morning to you, young sir!"

It was him.

“I hope I didn't wake you with my call! My apologies. Now then, regarding your 'physical therapy': as I'm sure you've already noticed, Ms. Pinelove has taken her leave as of this morning. The program has concluded prematurely. You will no longer need to shelter her, nor perform any further hosting duties."

Not only were the old man's words cutting deeper and deeper the more he talked, but his tone gradually shed that saccharine cheerfulness he had when we spoke together before.

“There is one last matter to attend to, however. I trust you've found the scorecard Ms. Pinelove kept on her person? This item is essential to my assessment of her performance as your guest these last several days, but I would ask that the host himself be the one to submit it after auditing the markings for any perceived errors. I ask that you drop the scorecard off at my office when convenient. The trip may be long for you, so I promise to compensate you for any travel expenses or parking validation you may need. Well then, I eagerly await your visit!"

He hung up without another word. The phone slipped from my hand and bounced heavily out of sight.

It ended “prematurely?" We failed our goal after all? This was a “scorecard" for her “performance?" Did Pinelove lie to me about being allowed to touch her, just to end her stay with me so she could be allowed to leave? Questions swirled furiously in my head, none of them looking like they would have good answers if I solved them. I felt betrayed, angry, alone. One of my first suspicions about Mr. All-Smiles was that I was caught up in a practical joke of some kind; was that the reality all along? A trickster fox she was, after all....

But then I began to feel angry at myself for doubting Pinelove. In the short time we spent together, I never sensed a malicious or untrustworthy intent from her. Vagueness, yes, but nothing born from spite or hatred. No, whatever was happening wasn't her fault. It may have been mine, but that was all the more reason not to soil the memories we had with hasty accusations. If I couldn't fix this mess, I owed it to the fox girl to apologize.

I got on the floor and hunted around for my phone. After finding it, I was greeted with a text message—unknown sender, of course—with only a street and city included. Plugging the address into the search bar brought up an unusual result: The Museum of Innovation and Discovery.

He wasn't kidding about it being quite the drive. The MoIaD was a good two-hour excursion from my apartment. I've been there in the past, but it wasn't a journey I made more than once every other year at best. Still, I wanted to see him face-to-face again. I wanted answers for what he put Pinelove and me through. I wanted him to have a chance to explain himself before I did something to those perfect pearly whites of his.

But above all else, I just wanted the slimmest chance to see Pinelove again.

I wasted no time hopping in the car and beelining to the museum. I won't deny that I had a lead foot for most of the drive, but I was also lucky enough to hit virtually no traffic or even red stop lights on my way there. I shaved nearly a full half-hour off of the travel time. I must have had a spirit of determination at the passenger's seat, helping me through any obstacle I would have to deal with.

The museum was relatively quiet when I got there, which was surprising for a Sunday. No major school groups on field trips, and no “free admission" days to draw the public in. But it easily made my frantic search around the entrance lobby all the more bizarre to the people who were there. My brisk footsteps echoed everywhere. I had no clue what I was looking for when I arrived, except some sign of Mr. All-Smiles. Maybe another cactus cart? If he was hiding in the exhibits themselves, I'd need to get a ticket. Why would he be in there, though?

As I approached the admissions counters, I saw him. He was sitting over at the Member Services office. Not wearing a tacky vacationer's outfit this time, but a full three-piece suit and tie. Writing away on some paper with such measured strokes that I wouldn't be even slightly shocked to discover if it was just an act for display while he waited for me. But even then...why so far out here? Why was a succulent salesman working at a museum almost two hours away from his mall kiosk?

I marched up to his office, receiving the warmest, yet slimiest welcoming smile in history.

“Ah, I was just thinking about you!" he sang. “Please, why don't you close the door behind you and take a seat so we may begin?"

I did as instructed without a word, like the rest of my interactions with the crazy old man. He didn't need to remind me about the “scorecard," though. I took it from my jacket pocket—Pinelove's jacket—and slid it to him on his desk.

“Splendid, splendid," he said, holding the card delicately in his fingers. “Hmmm, yes, I see. Well...a valiant effort on her part, though it would appear that she was not entirely successful in her mission."

“So, when do I get to know what this game you put me through even was?" I said, with my temper rising and my teeth gritted. “I did what some total stranger asked me for a week with no explanation about where someone like Pinelove came from, or why I couldn't 'touch' her, or why she was keeping score on me! All with no questions asked! So, no more. What's going on!?"

All of the simmering feelings I had over the week boiled over. I was rapidly losing my cool, but the old man didn't bat an eye.

“All fair questions!"

Mr. All-Smiles slid the scoreboard back to my side of the desk and folded his hands. The way his furrowed brow accompanied his jack-o-lantern grin made his demeanor feel wicked and dark. I felt like I was playing into his psychological trap.

“I want to begin by saying I have no ill intentions toward you, or Ms. Pinelove for that matter. Quite the contrary! It is my aspiration to help troubled, downtrodden, or miserable individuals of the world find the therapy they so desperately need to uncover personal meaning in their lives. More often than not, this is achieved through pairing two poor souls together whom I perceive to be compatible, a pair likely to help one another succeed in their path of betterment. A type of matchmaking, to put it bluntly. Ms. Pinelove was at the top of the list for subjects needing to find such a compatible partner, and the moment I found you out in the wild I knew the two of you would be the perfect duo!"

His eyebrows lifted in the middle, turning that wicked expression into one of mocking pity.

“Or so I had hoped. I'm not omniscient, after all. It would appear that my hypothesis missed the mark a bit, leading to a violation of our agreement. Ms. Pinelove was physically touched by your hand with an undeniable amount of time remaining before the scheduled conclusion of the program. Thus, she was recalled promptly."

I had a handful of questions at the ready to object to his explanation with. None of them were used, and I instead blurted out the dumbest, most uncivil one that jumped forward.

“Why was that even a rule!? You never told me why I wasn't allowed to put my hand on her even for something so innocent as a handshake when she didn't have that same restriction!"

“Ms. Pinelove's circumstances didn't necessitate divulging such details to you," Mr. All-Smiles retorted, losing some width to the corners of his mouth as his smile shrunk. “As I understand she explained to you—which she had no obligation to do, mind you—she was the victim of severe physical abuse that nearly resulted in her death. And as I already explained, both you and Ms. Pinelove were patients in need of therapy. She was not your guest simply to extract you from your reclusive shell so you would open up to the world, my dear boy. She was struggling to trust the company of human beings again, ones who would hopefully accept her for what she is without intolerance of her—pardon the colloquialism—monster form. Her circumstances were arguably more sensitive than yours, and she was magnitudes more stubborn about participating in this program initially. She refused to even humor my proposition unless I could guarantee her that nobody would lay a finger on her during the entirety of the program. If anyone touched the poor girl, the blame would be squarely on me."

Mr. All-Smiles relaxed a bit after his diatribe. The tension continued to charge the office, but there was a clear shift in the energy.

“However...."

That one word held both doom and hope simultaneously.

“It is my understanding that Ms. Pinelove herself initiated the events which led to the premature conclusion of the program. She may have used duplicitous language to insinuate that you violating your conditions of the program would be overlooked if she gave permission. Indeed, her conditions to me for participating in this program were what inspired me to create the conditions you would need to follow, my good sir, and so I can understand why she would feel that allowing such a transgression was allowable. Still, the rules were not hers to establish, nor were they hers to wantonly break. You had your orders not to touch her. Full stop. However, I am not blind to the dispositions of others, my friend. I realize you found yourself in a confusing scenario with little guidance or feedback, and you wanted to trust Ms. Pinelove when information and support was finally given to you. I must say, I am surprised myself she progressed so far along her own program that she welcomed physical contact out of her own volition. I must thank you for what you accomplished given your lack of context. Thus, I declare that you will not be penalized for the violation."

The old man reached under his desk and retrieved an antique jewelry box. He popped the lid open, revealing an assortment of rings, amulets, and bangles. I wasn't the kind of guy to wear jewelry, but the supernatural aura that wafted out of the box from the metal artifacts was mesmerizing.

“Alas, the program has concluded. Ms. Pinelove's performance aside, I would say you handled yourself admirably. You will no longer be required to participate in my program, and I would like to leave you with a token of your choosing. These are powerful tools that will assist you in your quest to connect with another human being. With any one of these, you will certainly be able to swoon an ideal mate of your choosing. And in time, you will naturally gain the experience needed to court your peers without the crutch of these items."

I sat with muted resentment. Mr. All-Smiles went from blaming me for the failure of his little game to throwing Pinelove under the bus. Now, he wanted to placate me with some trinket and expected me to settle for just “another human" after opening my eyes to a world of beautiful creatures like the vixen. I hated that man.

“Which one of this will let me see Pinelove again?" I said dryly.

Mr. All-Smiles inched the box closer.

“I'm afraid none of them will. And I must apologize again, but Ms. Pinelove must complete her own therapy among the company of others who share the same need to isolate themselves from the wrathful prejudice of mankind. Other monsters, as it were. I believe your intentions are pure, my friend, but jeopardizing her recovery because of your own desires would be a selfish act that I'm sure she would not want you perform. Wouldn't you agree?"

My eyes weren't focusing correctly thanks to the frustration clouding my mind. I had to look away from that infuriating old man and his smarmy tone, or else I would go berserk. I was able to concentrate on a picture he had on the corner of his desk that I was too distracted to notice sooner. It was the same picture as the one on his cactus cart: the old man himself posing happily with his suspiciously human-sized, robed sphinx cat. The old man slid the jewelry box to the side to draw my attention back, blocking the picture in the process.

“Now then, did any of these items interest you?" he said. “Perhaps you would prefer something more personalized, if rings or pendants aren't your thing? I could place an order for a custom piece, if that sounds more appealing to you."

He broke me. I had proof that this seemingly crazy old man was actually dealing with some otherworldly, magical business that was far outside of what I could handle as some poor fool who didn't know about any of this a week ago. And he was even letting me walk away with my life, confident I wouldn't blab about the “monster world" to everyone or come back to seek my revenge on his life.

No, what could I prove even if I wanted to do that? Nobody would believe me, and even if I was capable of anything significant, I would probably just be eliminated in the night. Pinelove's foster father spent his whole life trying to find that world, and he died without accomplishment. Was it worth dedicating my life to the same goal if it would end just as fruitless for me?

I sighed internally, holding back the burning feeling in my throat.

“No...I'm good," I said. “Keep them. I don't want to hang on to something that would just remind me of her. If she can have mine, and she wants it, give it to her. I hope she can get her life back someday."

At that moment, he wasn't “All-Smiles" anymore.

“I understand," the old man said solemnly. “Very well. If you change your mind, feel free to return here anytime. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, good sir."

I left without another word. My legs carried me back to the car autonomously, but once I sat in the driver's seat it was a good hour before I regained sensation in my body. It was all over. My adventure with Pinelove and the hidden world she came from was finished. Tomorrow, I would be back to my same old routine.

---

[[Three days later]]

I never expected myself to be the type to wind up in a bar, alone. Who knew it would only take three miserable days of despondency—barely eating or drinking yet getting a surplus of sleep—in order to try new things? I was sharing company with the same glass I had ordered when I first arrived, trying to get my fill more from the atmosphere than the alcohol. A part of me was proud for finally coming out of my shell enough to be out in public, though wallowing in sorrow for the world to see wasn't much to boast about. There's a certain feeling of, “Please pay attention to me, I'm heartbroken," that I've always gotten from loners at bars, and I was one of them. It definitely wasn't as romantic as it looked in movies.

And, of course, there had to be a whiskey bottle on the shelves with a logo of a fox on it, there to remind me of what I couldn't have. I wanted to try some of it. I wanted nothing to do with it.

“Anything else I can get you?" the scrawny bartender said. He probably had to serve a dozen people like me just on a slow night, hanging around and taking up seats.

“No thanks, I'm good for now," I mumbled.

There was a growing patter of rain on the roof of the bar. It wouldn't have been the perfect miserable night without it. I didn't have nearly enough drink in me to worry about driving home in such conditions, but my car was in an outdoor public lot a couple blocks away. That meant a long walk in a frigid downpour. And whether it was at home or still in the bar, I saw a long night of lamenting Pinelove's exit out of my life ahead of me. Being distracted on the road by the fox on top of the terrible weather would be hazardous to drive in. Then again, why not take the chance? What more could I lose?

I took out my phone and sent out for a ride request back to my apartment. It was a frivolous waste of money, but I was far from thinking straight. I would be taxied back home, and I would have to go fetch my car the next day when I was emotionally sober.

My phone buzzed in response before it even dropped back into my pocket.

Not only was my ride secured within seconds, but it was immediately followed by a notification that they were already outside waiting for me. It figures there would be drivers so close by a bar to swoop in on profitable drunks. I deserved to be among those taken advantage of for an easy dollar. I hurried to pay my one-drink tab and ran outside into the pouring rain.

Out of all the vehicles I was prepared to see, I never would have suspected a hearse. At least, it looked like it was a hearse at one point, complete with dark wooden trim and velvety curtains over narrow, foggy windows. Quite fitting, as I was mourning in a sense.

That's one way to get more passengers talking, I thought. Those ride services always had a few local “gimmick" cars to turn heads and drum up buzz, and I'm sure they made the driver extra popular as well.

The back door swung open and I was instantly hit with a cloud of colorful incense smoke. Better than cigarette smoke, in my opinion, but something about the aroma of the incense made my head swim. I leaned inside partway, and a raspy voice greeted me.

“Yes, dearie. This ride is for you. It is a cold one tonight, no?"

It was a female voice, but with a timbre that sounded like someone smoked a box of incense a day. A sandpaper throat, with a purring trill at the end of each sentence. I couldn't see who it was in the driver's seat, however, as another pair of curtains divided the front and back halves of the vehicle.

This can't be street legal, I thought, of all things.

Yet despite the strangeness, it was much more inviting in the vehicle than standing out in the rain. I slid onto the cushiony seats and closed the door, trying to keep my dripping body from getting everything wet. The locks slammed down half a breath later. The hearse rumbled with life, but it rolled over the street with an ethereal smoothness.

I didn't need to see out the windows to tell we weren't taking any appropriate route to my apartment. We were going too far in the complete opposite direction for too long. The driver gave a throaty chuckle when the realization hit me.

“Too early to return home yet, wouldn't you say, dearie? The night is so young."

“What did you have in mind?" I asked, fully aware I was going along for a ride far out of my control. More of the mysterious crowd Mr. All-Smiles was part of? Were they going to keep harassing me with their sick game until the day I die?

“I would like you to have a talk with my husband," the driver said. “I believe there is some unfinished business between you two. Rest assured, you will have all the time you need. He will be working late tonight...if he ever wishes to be served dinner again."

There was a baleful tone to her words that sent a secondhand shiver up my spine, even without being the target of her scorn.

“And what does he do, exactly?" I said. I already had an idea.

The driver paused for a nerve-racking amount of time before she spoke again. Did she not hear me? I was about to open my mouth when she responded.

“My husband and I have many interests. Due to our age and talents and...notoriety...we often pursue these interests as we please. Nothing sinister to young souls like you—worry not—but we do, for a lack of a better term, 'meddle' in their business for various reasons. Entertainment, yes, but also something more at times. I will not deny, however, that I have a touch to my techniques that some may consider a bit 'mean-spirited.' As a dear friend of mine would say, I like to mess with people, on occasion."

She chuckled, very much pleased with herself.

“My husband is normally much more of a gentler, eager sweetheart; he does not like to ruse others or give burdensome thoughts for them to dwell on, whereas I will often bring my prey to the brink of despair before I let them off the hook. I find my methods more conducive to...mmmrrrr...ensuring that those I deal with push themselves to show their best. For their sake, really. No need to understand, dearie; it is difficult to explain in riddles. Regarding my husband, I have teased him relentlessly because of our differences in approach. So much so, regrettably, that we ended up in a bit of an argument recently that spiraled into a heated wager. He tried to emulate my cutthroat methods for his latest 'project,' but alas, he lacks experience and tact in being such a cold heart. It would appear I have won our bet in the end—that he was incapable of channeling my own signature style of energy—but at the cost of irreparable damage to the relationship of those unwittingly involved."

Something caught my eye between the curtains dividing me from the front of the hearse. It was one of the driver's own eyes. An emerald, feline-like slitted eye, peering at me through the rear-view mirror. The eye was surrounded by yellowish, aged skin...or thin fur? The photo of Mr. All-Smiles with his robed sphinx cat crossed my mind. Not just crossed, no, it felt planted.

“I am deeply sorry what transpired between you and the girl," she continued. “You were a pawn in an immature game my husband and I played; a game that nobody ultimately won. It would appear our age still does not exempt us from making childish mistakes now and then."

What could I have said? As I had thought from the beginning, somehow I stumbled into something between two powerful individuals who acted outside of the “rules" a human like me had to follow. Part of me felt bitter resentment, but a louder part of me knew not to lash out at someone who could probably erase me from existence at the snap of the fingers. Then again, that sounded preferable to going back to the empty life I had before meeting Pinelove.

I held my tongue and stared down at my feet, still a passenger to whatever this omnipotent-being had in store.

“I would like you to continue seeking genuine connection to others," she said. “My husband did not say as much to you directly, but you have grown more than you may realize since the day he encountered you. Discarding all the progress you have made because of this setback would not only be foolish, but it could be fatal. I can smell the longing you have to share your heart with others. Do not ignore it any longer, or you may be afflicted with a poison to your soul you would never awaken from."

I opened my mouth to speak but was immediately cut off.

“And DO NOT for even a second lie to yourself that such a fate is what you truly wish!" she hissed. Her sudden outburst was jarring, but it was more frightening when I imagined she had tapped into my toughts. “It is a fool's favorite trick to say they give up on life after the first sign of hardship. Disposing of life because of but one inconvenience? Disgraceful. There is much you do not know of this world—let alone the countless others—and so you cannot possibly comprehend the hell that awaits those who accept a cowardly death with open arms. However, I will be happy to give you a taste, if you so desire it, in hopes it will make you see reason!"

Her threat left me defenseless. I felt hundreds of knives held to my throat all at once as the back seat suddenly seemed crowded by an unseen mob of angry spirits.

“I...can try giving life a little more of a chance," I croaked, nodding slowly for her to see through the mirror.

Her eye went narrow as it was obscured by a raised, gleeful cheek.

“Wonderrrful! Coincidentally, we are almost at our destination. Once I drop you off, I will be waiting for you until you are ready to return home. Take your time, dearie. Oh, and please give my regards to hubbie when you see him!"

I kept nodding.

I didn't recognize where we were. One side of the street had several seemingly abandoned buildings, while the other side was a vacant lot stretching endlessly into the fog. We were too far from the street corners to see any of the signs, either. I felt like I was in limbo. Only the building the driver had stopped directly in front of looked open for business, with a soft pink glow seeping out the corners of heavily frosted windows. No signage or address anywhere in sight.

The rain wasn't letting up, so the choice to head into the building was an easy one. I could feel the sturdy, heavy age of the iron door as I pulled it open. My eyes were filled with the soft pink light in what appeared to be a small waiting room. At the side of the room was a check-in counter; no doors led to it from what I could tell, and only a single occupant was sitting on the other side, very plainly pretending he didn't see me at first when I entered.

“Oh, good evening to you, young sir!"

Mr. All-Smiles was reading a newspaper until I approached. His usual perky smile was a bit crooked as he acknowledged me. Maybe it was how he sat behind the counter, but for once I felt as though I was the one towering over him with all the cards in hand. He had strange powers on his side, presumably, but I had fervor on mine.

“I was told you wouldn't be too busy if I wanted to have a chat with you," I said coolly to the old man.

He nodded enthusiastically like a bobblehead. “Yes, yes, that would be correct! Slow night here for business, I'm afraid. Nasty weather probably doesn't help. But, ah, perhaps we can work something out besides the 'chat' you were looking for? What I mean, rather, is that I can offer you something beforehand, and if you are still not satisfied, we will have our heart-to-heart as promised. How about it?"

Was he afraid of something? Me? His “wife?" This was a side of Mr. All-Smiles I honestly thought he was incapable of showing. But I was enjoying it.

“I'm listening," I said, folding my arms.

“Terrific! Well then, I don't need to explain my usual 'day job' to you again, do I?"

“No, I guess you don't."

“Erm, yes, very good! Well, to put things simply, I run a modest business here at night, which could be summarized as a quicker, more casual form of matchmaking. When two forlorn souls don't require the caliber of pairing and monitoring as my 'bigger' projects, we match them up here and send them home together same day! That's not to say our practice here is any less considerate, however. We possess a remarkable record for exemplary participant satisfaction!"

Mr. All-Smiles grabbed a pad of papers and hastily scribbled on the top of the stack.

“For you, my dear friend," he continued, “I will provide you with an opportunity to try our services for yourself. Free of charge! We'll find you someone I am confident will help fill the hole in your heart, with no fee even if you are satisfied! As you turned down one of my artifacts earlier, I hope this will be a suitable replacement."

The threads of my jacket audibly strained as I dug my fingers into the sleeves, gripping them tightly.

“So, your idea of reconciliation after dragging me into that little game of yours is to let me do some last-minute hookup with a random stranger?" I said. “That is what you think will make me forget losing someone like Pinelove?"

The old man placed his pen on the stack of papers and slid them on the counter closer to me. His head was bowed slightly, as if submissive in his gesture.

“I don't expect you to ever forget Ms. Pinelove, my boy," Mr. All-Smiles said with heaviness. “What transpired between the two of you was a tragedy that I am ashamed to have been involved in. I know it sounds difficult to consider finding another life partner so soon after losing one you grew such a close a bond with, but I implore you to give it a chance. As I've said before, I am confident you will find satisfaction in our meeting tonight if you allow me one final opportunity to assist you. If you take me up on the offer yet remain unfulfilled, I will do everything I can to make it up to you some other way."

His words seemed sincere. What he was asking me to do still felt vague and uncertain, however. It didn't help that the paper he was beckoning me to sign was written in such grandiose penmanship that everything looked like ancient runes. I couldn't decipher any of it, except the spot to give my signature.

I don't know what it was that possessed me to humor the old man any longer and give him that “last chance" he was practically begging me for. It probably had something to do with my memory of Pinelove, and how I felt I would be sullying the memories we shared together if I didn't do everything in my power to just...play along.

I scrawled my name, and something clicked on the wall behind me. A door swung open, without a knob or hinge in sight.

“Thank you, my friend," Mr. All-Smiles said, taking back the papers. “When you are ready, proceed through the doorway and follow the path until you find an open room. We have a prospective matchmaking candidate waiting for you already!"

I gave the old man one last look, full of skepticism and a bit of warning not to make me regret my choice. I stepped through the threshold, and the door closed behind me. What I saw hit me with the most intense sensation of déjà vu ever.

I was standing at the start of a long, carpeted hallway. There was no mistaking it: this was the hallway from the dreams I had from the night I first met Pinelove. Now I was looking at it with a conscious mind and open eyes, but there was still a hazy, dreamlike feeling to the hallway. I didn't get the chance to see how big the building was from the outside, but the length at which the hallway extended made me believe it wasn't existing in the same reality I was used to.

And just like in my dreams, the walls were lined with countless portraits, each one containing a different pair of figures. Not just “pairs," but couples. The first portrait was larger than the others that followed, framed with care that radiated a special feeling of...pride? It felt as though it was a treasured picture, honoring what this place was meant to be for. In it was a large, female wolf—much like Pinelove in how humanlike her expression was—with fur as dark as night, embracing a red-hooded young man lovingly in her arms. The young man's hood was pulled over his face too much for me to make out much detail in his features, but the smile of absolute infatuation he had was unmistakable. It was a smile that was rivaled only by the one on the face of the female wolf, and my heart melted at the sight of the two locked in each other's embrace.

Every single portrait in the hallway followed the same trend. Each one had a human and some other creature—animal, monster, creature of folklore—exchanging tokens of adoration and lifelong friendship. These were pairings that crossed the boundaries between the worlds. I wanted to know what happened to them all; what did they have to struggle through to find the joy they were showing so candidly in these pictures? Where did they live now? I don't think I will ever find those answers, but as I looked at the portraits I somehow knew they were all still happy.

The portraits grew fewer and more spaced out the longer I walked down the hallway. There was ample room to hang more up, if needed. Oddly enough, though, there weren't any other doors or halls in sight. I was looking for an “open room," but I hadn't even seen a closed one. Would I be walking down this path just as long as I had the dreams for?

My question was answered on cue. I soon found the end of the hallway. There was no further I could progress except an open threshold up ahead on the right. The hallway abruptly stopped in a dead end just past the open door. Hanging on the wall was one final portrait: a familiar picture of Mr. All-Smiles with his robed cat. Seeing it again at a much larger size, and after the parade of others much like it, made it all the more apparent she was no normal feline. The smile on the old man's face was the first one that didn't give me unease. The bliss he and his mate shared in the image made me understand how a man could never lose his grin again. It's as though the real one was quite literally frozen that way.

But the warmth from the photo was drained away by what I found in the room at the end of the hallway. Vacancy. Emptiness. Leathery booth seats wrapped around the walls of the small room, with a single dim, pink light illuminating the corners, showing me there was nothing to hide in there. Nobody was actually waiting for me. If they had been, and they already left, I would have surely seen them walk by me, right? The pink-lighted room was unquestionably a symbol for my own heart: empty.

That was the end of my tolerance for Mr. All-Smiles and all the rest who kept jerking me along. I had walked down an impossibly long hall with the promise I would find someone waiting at the end. Even if it ended up being someone I didn't have a sliver of attraction towards, I would be grateful that the old man wasn't lying to me for once. But no more. My legs were tired, and my spirit was exhausted. I would have to make the same trek all the way back to the entrance, where I'd tell the old man he failed me and that I never wanted to see him again. He could grovel and offer me all the magical trinkets in the world, and I wouldn't accept any of them. I was done.

My quivering legs carried me over to the booths, and I crashed onto by backside. I needed to regain my strength. I was dreading the walk back, and the inevitable confrontation I would have once I got there. If there was even anyone to confront, after all.

I put my face in my hands and let my eyes burn hotly. I prayed that I was still back in the bar, somehow drunk off of what little I had to drink there. Bawling in front of complete strangers would be preferable to sitting alone at the end of some magical limbo. How long would I have to sit in this room before someone would come looking for me if I never decided to leave?

I'd end my adventure just as it started: alone.

I thought sitting down would let me catch my breath for the trip back, but my energy was slipping away even more. This must have been what the hearse driver was talking about; my lack of purpose in life was a lethargy that was slowly going to kill me. At this rate, waiting in this room forever was my best option.

I'm sorry, Pinelove, I thought. I wanted to persevere for her sake, but I didn't know how anymore. I could only wish her the best of luck in finding her own happiness in life. Hopefully they would let her live among humans again someday, like she hoped she could. That was the least I could ask for.

“I'm not so great at showing up on time, huh?"

My head shot up. Even through bleary eyes, I could see her clearly in the doorway. Same clothes as always. Bags in hand. A look I never wanted to be without gain.

“P...Pinelove?"

“I didn't think I could get lost in a hallway with one entrance and no exit," the vixen said sheepishly, “but I got distracted by the pictures and had to rush to get over here. Sorry about that."

I didn't even bother to think about how she could have gotten to this place before me, yet we never passed each other in the hallway. It was a detail I'd chalk up to “magic" later and quickly forget about for more important matters.

“Is it really you?" I gasped, bracing myself for crushing disappointment.

“Yeah, I hope so," Pinelove said with a smirk. “Well, if you need more proof, though...I think you know what you can do."

I stood up and carefully walked over to the vixen. She watched my approached with the same held breath as I had, perfectly still as I brought a hand close to her cheek. As I inhaled sharply and placed my palm against her soft, furred face, Pinelove exhaled with a sigh of content. She leaned into my touch, cupping my hand with hers. The fox girl was really there. She didn't disappear at my fingertips like I dreaded from the first day—like she did after the night we shared embraced together in bed. Those fleeting fears still raised new questions, but I couldn't ask them before I wrapped my arms around the vixen in a hug that told her plainly that I never wanted to let her go.

Pinelove yipped in surprise at my sudden grip, but she laughed it off with a shaky giggle. Her arms intertwined around my chest, and her tail tied us up in fluff.

“What happened the day you left?" I whispered.

“I don't even really know myself," Pinelove said. “When I woke up the morning after our last night together, I was back in the room I had in the monster world. All of my stuff was there, too. It must have all been what happened when our time together was over, like he told us...."

A twinge of anger jolted through me, but I let it go before it could fester any longer. I had what I wanted, and there was no use in holding a grudge against the old man any longer. Pinelove and I relaxed our holds on each other and took a seat on the leathery booth so she could finish her story. She wiped her eyes with her paw before continuing.

“I won't lie, I...heh, I cried pretty hard when I realized where I was," she said. “I-I think I woke up the rest of the others with how hard I was wailing. My friend was only a few doors down, and she practically crashed through my wall out of concern for me. She was pretty livid to see me back so soon...and all alone. I think they all knew that we had failed somehow."

The vixen started shaking with nervous laughing.

“I-I almost made a huge mess of things! I wouldn't stop crying, so I couldn't explain what happened. My friend charged into her father's office because she thought it was his fault—the big guy in the “Customs" office, you know—and it almost took the whole town to pull them off each other! H-h-hahaha...ha...."

Whoever this “friend" Pinelove kept bringing up was, I made a mental note to never piss her off.

“A-anyway," the vixen proceeded, “after everyone calmed down, I got my story out. The big guy couldn't really do anything because it wasn't his fault I came back. It wasn't his agreement, after all, and he doesn't really like monsters hanging around in the human wolf anyway, so he wasn't very helpful even after my friend got in his faces about it. But then...she heard about everything."

That one word made the single pink light in the room flicker with apprehension.

“She?"

“Someone very close to Old Smiley, I guess. She's the one who made the push to let me do the stay in the human world with you in the first place. Once word got to her that I was back in town already, she wasn't too happy with him. You ever see a cartoon where someone gets so mad the sky goes black? Imagine seeing that for real!"

Pinelove wasn't making a great case to ever visit this monster world in person.

“I don't know what happened after that," she said. “Must have been a lot of, uh, 'red tape' stuff between humans and monsters. I just slept for a few days, not eating or even leaving my room. I...kind of just wanted to die. But then they shook me out of bed and stuffed me in a limo. Dropped me off here a little while later."

A limo, huh? I thought, only slightly jealous_._

Pinelove and I shared a moment together in silence. Seeing her again was all I wanted mere minutes ago. And yet...it wasn't enough anymore. Now I wanted more of her. I wanted her in my life forever. I wasn't humble enough to rein in my greed; I'd resign to never ask for anything else again if I could just have the vixen's heart.

“Alright, what happens now?" I said, worried. Her story was over, but we were still sitting together in a limbo between worlds.

“I, well..." Pinelove said. “Apparently, I was evicted from my room in Gulchgut. H-hahaha, they were so happy and kind to let me know my crying was too much for them, so to make sure I didn't come back again, they...'kicked me out' of town. So, I'm technically homeless again. B-but I have a permit now to come to the human side as long as I follow the rules, so...I was wondering...Gray, if you still had room at your—"

“Of course you can!" I blurted out. “Please!"

The vixen launched off her seat and into my arms again. She broken down, sobbing gently into my shoulder.

Guess All-Smiles was right, I thought. This was a quicker kind of matchmaking.

I let the vixen cry it out and catch her breath. Incidentally, it gave me some time to pull myself together, too. Pinelove's embrace was finally giving my legs the energy to make the walk back. I could even hold the fox girl in my arms the whole way if I needed to.

And so I did. Without any more hesitation, I grabbed Pinelove's bags and we left the room together, with her head nuzzled against my chest as I carried her down the hallway. I wouldn't have minded a full trek along the path I took, savoring my time with the fox, but the hallway felt significantly shorter on the way back. She felt weightless, along with my own steps. It wasn't long before we were back at the check-in counter. Mr. All-Smiles was waiting patiently.

“Ah, I see you've found a friend!" he said. “Terrific! Just as I expected! Well, I see the two of you are already bonding, and that shows great promise for your future together! Ah, and of course there's no charge for our services, yes. Our treat!"

For all the emotional turmoil that man had put Pinelove and me through, I couldn't deny that his twisted sense of “bringing people together" had ultimately succeeded. I had met someone I wanted to share my life with, and despite being anything but human herself, she helped me forget my petty misanthropy and my superficial cynicism for my peers. And in return, I had helped her find a way to be with humans once again. All in all, I couldn't stay angry with Mr. All-Smiles forever, and I decided to forgive him for the heartache he had put us through.

Well, almost.

“Thanks for everything," I said to the old man with a smile of my own. “Oh, and your wife asked me to give you her regards. She said something about, 'I hope he's ready for his favorite dinner.' Tuna casserole, I think?"

For one split second, the perpetual grin of Mr. All-Smiles faltered into a look of mortal terror. He regained his composure in the blink of an eye, but the snapshot of his face would sweeten my dreams forever. He was human. He could fear. It was almost compensation enough for what he put me through.

Almost.

The rain had stopped when we bid our final farewells to Mr. All-Smiles, who seemed just as relieved to have helped us as he was to get rid of us. I carried Pinelove to the hearse waiting for our return and loaded the vixen inside with her belongings. The incense smelled more fragrant than pungent this time.

“This is...interesting," Pinelove said, taking in the velvety atmosphere of the hearse. Her sensitive nose was flaring with the stench.

“I didn't see your limo waiting for us, or we could have used that," I said teasingly.

The fox girl rubbed her ear with a guilty look.

“I think it was always going to be a one-way trip in that thing," she said. “You, uh, know that one childhood friend who borrowed their parents' car when they didn't have permission? But the, uh, parents found out before it could be returned?"

“Not gonna' lie, Pinelove," I said, “this 'friend' of yours sounds more and more like she's a real handful."

The hearse driver let out a raspy laugh. I could see the amusement in her feline eye through the rear-view mirror. She didn't say another word for the drive back to my own car, but there was a roaring purr coming from the front that definitely wasn't the engine. Pinelove rested her head on my shoulder, and I draped an arm around hers. My other hand found itself in my jacket pocket, and I felt a stiff piece of paper I didn't recall having before.

It was Pinelove's [T.O.U.C.H.<3] scorecard.

How it got in there, I was content never knowing.

---

[[A few weeks later...]]

The end of the year was right around the corner. Christmas was only a few days off. It would be my first one with Pinelove at my side. I couldn't wait to introduce her to my family. I was admittedly a little nervous as well, but the adoration I had for her vastly outweighed the anxiety. I knew they would love her just as much as I did. Meanwhile, the vixen was giddy about taking me to visit her side of the family: the monsters and other creatures over in the other world. Now that she had a home on the human side—her true dream come true—she finally opened up to the residents of Gulchgut like they were lifelong friends.

That was more nerve-racking than showing the fox girl off to my own folks, but it was something I wouldn't be able to refuse her. I got the impression that introducing me to that other world would be Pinelove's way of honoring the memory of her “first" family, Gramps; he would get to experience the monster world in the end, vicariously through me. If that's all it took to make her happy, then it was the least I could do in return for her love.

The air outside was filled with snowflakes, but the cold never penetrated the apartment. Pinelove and I shared the couch together, with the vixen cuddled on top of me. For only wearing her nightly shirt—her infamous heavy metal band shirt—her body still felt like a furnace to mine, keeping winter from invading our home but making it nearly impossible to relocate to the bedroom from the sheer coziness we found together. Even the light from her bonfire eyes felt like mini heat lamps during the brief moments we ever spent physically apart.

I stroked her head behind the ears with one hand, while the other rubbed the small of her back just above the tail. She moaned happily and gave my ear a nibble in return. To say we were getting more “comfortable" with one another would be an understatement, though we were still making patient, unhurried steps in exploring our intimacy. We were two gun-shy souls who needed time to unmake the barriers we had built up over our lives, and coming from completely separate worlds added an extra layer of complexity to the relationship. We'd still have to be careful around other humans. We were still two different and distinct species. Were we even...compatible in certain ways that lovers typically are?

These were all challenges and riddles we would have to deal with in our years together as a couple, but Pinelove already proved to me she had a talent for simply bypassing difficult puzzles. Then again, finding solutions to interesting problems was half of the fun, like where the best spot to kiss a fox girl on the snout was. That was a dilemma I didn't have the answer to yet, but the vixen made no objection to my endless attempts at solving it.

Pinelove stopped chewing on my ear and gave me a dreamy stare. She mouthed a few words that were muffled by her encroaching sleepiness as she let out a soft yawn. Her forehead touched mine, and we rested that way for a while longer. I knew what she wanted to say anyway—she told me those same few words every morning and night. And I always had proof of their validity no matter how many times she repeated them.

Hanging above the couch was a tiny picture frame, encasing the scorecard the vixen was graded by during her first week with me. Pinelove and I proudly displayed it in our home, now that the final space—the heart—was finally fulfilled.

The end.