Callum hits Cooltown

Well, what can I say? Here I am, freezing my arse off on the stone floor of my new home, chin propped up on a box, straining the hell out of my eyes as I describe to you my situation by the dim lamplight thoughtfully donated by Cooltown’s local shopkeep, Tom Nook. For all intents and purposes, this town seems to have everything I need. It isn’t much, but the 100 metre cliffs surrounding the town give it just the right degree of seclusion that I’ve been searching for. No one would find me here, I could finally start anew. But if my first day taught me anything, it was that what I was in for was far from what I expected. After having suffered through a long and tedious conversation with a cat(?) who reeked of social retardation from his incessant, tactless questioning right down to his red diamond-printed shirt (which like totally went out of season last fall, along with cargo shorts with sandals and carefully parted hair), I stepped off the bus and listened with satisfaction at crushing thousands of flakes of dazzling white snow resting delicately underfoot. It was then that I was approached by the big cheese of Cooltown, a raccoon in an apron by the name of Tom Nook. Somehow, from that meeting, I found myself bullied into purchasing a tucked away little house with beautiful ocean views, and working part-time at Nook’s Cranny in order to pay off said house. It was the easiest job I’ve ever worked, also the most short-lived, as Tom Nook suddenly no longer required my skills after only a few assignments. I don’t see why: I thought my house looked lovely after planting all the flowers he gave me, and the ad certainly attracted more customers.
Out on my own, I was forced into scouring the town for cherries and shells in order to pay off the remaining few thousand bells (the local currency…I’m just as confused as you are) still owing on my house, also taking this opportunity to meet the local fauna and physically abuse the local flora. They seem nice enough, but when they think that no one’s watching, they tend to just stand there, not blinking, only occasionally pacing a small area aimlessly – I think I’ll stick to bottled water. As I explored the town, I noticed that every building faced the same way – perhaps modelled off some kind of belief system here wherein they must keep every action in plain view of an omnipotent god, but it could just be little ol’ me reading too much into everything.
By nightfall, I was completely worn out from shaking the life out of every tree in town, and I was caught reading a letter that Kiki had received from her ‘secret admirer’. Suddenly, there it was. The Aurora Borealis. We stood there, frozen. The only thing that broke the awed silence was each captivated breath rising up to the expanse of wavy colours. Nothing that had happened that day mattered any more, and every aching muscle seemed to melt and trickle down the cool earth to the flowing river. There we were, Kiki and I, captured in a moment by a veil of colour, underneath a starry sky. And here I am now. I finally collected about 8,000 bells worth of cherries and shells and am debt free, for now – he’s expanding my house tonight. I wonder what he does with all those cherries and shells. Does he have a warehouse full of them? Or am I going to wake up tomorrow morning and find that my expanded house is using them as insulation? And while I'm at it, how is he going to get into my house to extend it? Does he have a store room with everyone's keys in town? Or is he going to kick the door down? I’m just going to have to curl up on my icy stone floor, cry myself to sleep, and wait for the morning to tell me.