Chapter 1: Voice of a Generation

Benjamin Clawhauser watched the clock intensely, wanting and willing time to move faster so he could clock out. Throughout the day, his impatience came out in nervous shortnesses as he spoke to his fellow law enforcement officers, engaging them with quick questions, and responding with brief answers. Conversations were easily forgotten as he was preoccupied, and even the taste of his favorite donuts weren't appealing to his sweet tooth. In all that, the fluffy cheetah watched the clock finally roll over to six. The night dispatcher came to relieve him of duty, and he took off to get ready for the night of his life. He had been to every concert Gazelle has ever performed in Zootopia, but tonight was very different. Tonight would change his life forever, or at least he thought so, as he kissed his backstage pass with a romantic infatuation. He giggled delightfully, eager to meet and speak with the superstar he idolized.

The hall of the recreation center boomed with activity. The crowd was still cheering around the fountain stage for several minutes after she performed her final song, the hit single 'Try Everything'. Gazelle expressed her sincerest love and thanks to her fans, wishing them all a good night. The rooms went by as Clawhauser followed the record company agent, growing ever more eager as he stepped closer and closer to his idol. The agent turned to a door on his right and knocked twice in quick succession.

"Miss Gazelle, the sweepstakes winner is here." The agent spoke closely into the door. It opened like it had been given a magic word, and the smile grew on Clawhauser's face from ear to ear. The agent ushered him inside, unbelieving that he was in the inner sanctum that was her dressing room. She stood there, in living fur, haloed in the lights of her mirror and framed by racks of costumes at either side. He was fixated on her, until he spotted a noticeably cool panther in a black suit standing just off her right shoulder. Gazelle and this panther looked at each other almost blankly, and something about it tripped a flag in Clawhauser's law enforcement instincts. His smile and face remained open and inviting, still waiting to hear his angel with horns speak. The panther turned towards the door and spoke only once before he left.

"Consider it." That was all. He walked out with the other agent, and the two were alone at last. The expression on her face took a moment to catch up to what was happening. She glanced at him, and her performance began.

"Hi!" She joyously greeted him. "You are the contest winner?"

"Uh-huh yep, that's uhh... me!" Clawhauser giggled out. Gazelle pulled up her chair from the mirror.

"Mind if I sit? I've been on my hooves for hours, may I get you a chair?"

"I don't mind standing I sat all day waiting for this and O... M... Goodness tonight was your best show ever and I have to say I'm your biggest fan and I have all of your posters and figurines and the app for my phone here look I really do have them all!"

"Whoa-whoa-whoa, slow down! There's no need to rush. What's your name?" He took a deep breath like it would keep him from exploding.

"Clawhauser, Benjamin Clawhauser!"

"Well Benjamin, it's a pleasure to meet you!" Her accent as she spoke his name melted his heart.

"I think I might need a chair after all." He turned around and grabbed a stacking chair from the corner, sat on it backwards, and rested his fluffy face on his paws like a child in complete admiration. That flag went up again. The look on her face was sullen and troubled like someone stole her teddy bear. This snapped Clawhauser out of his fan-fueled hysteria and grounded him with a thread of reality.

"Is-is everything alright? I'm an officer of the law and I can tell when something is up and down. I see it all day long." Gazelle stopped the charade. She slumped in her chair, hung her head, and rubbed something from her eye. She came clean to expose the subject that bothered her.

"The record label wants to change my image, my message, everything, and I don't like it! It's not me anymore! They want me to be some sort of... object! It's terrible! It's just not what I stand for!" Clawhauser knew it was wrong as well. He's adored the singer for years, and she has never stood for anything that would be damaging to her integrity, quite the opposite in fact. Clawhauser shared his thoughts with her.

"You're amazing just the way you are! Why change anything? Couldn't you just say no?" Gazelle looked up through the part in her hair at him.

"The record label has so much power over my life and what I do… and they know things. It seems like I do a lot on my own but it's often not without my agent telling me it's OK, or telling me what to do altogether. I can sing, I love to sing, but sometimes keeping up the performance is too much." Clawhauser saw what was happening.

"It's a delicate situation, isn't it?" She gave him a caring smile, she knew he understood and found solace in his caring company.

"It is, I could be on the streets in a week if I'm not careful. I don't know what I would do, I would die."

"Can you talk to your people, perhaps come up with a compromise?" She smiled happily at him, he smiled back and she gave him a hopeful look. It always made him happy when she lights up, but this was the genuine uplifting that she desperately needed.

"I will try everything." She stated.

"That's the spirit, and who knows, things might work out for the better." She stood up and towered several feet over the short and stout cheetah. She knelt down and gave him a big hug. Clawhauser's heart rushed and he slowly moved his hands around her as well in return. There was a knock at the door and he was out of time.

"You've been a great help, Benjamin." She melted his heart just a little more.

"Protect and serve and all that. Gazelle, I'm your biggest fan, pun totally intended! I'll love you no matter what happens. I really mean that!" The hug tightened briefly then released just as the door opened. The agent that led Clawhauser into the room had come to lead him out. "I work dispatch at the Zootopia Police Department precinct one, maybe I'll see you around sometime?" He added as he headed for the door. She smiled and blew a kiss to the endearing cheetah. The agent left with him and she was alone for the moment. She turned and plunked down at her vanity and stared closely into her own eyes in the mirror. Gravity from the situation settled upon her. She was afraid and completely vulnerable to the record company's will and the people of stature that controlled her. With a gaze into the mirror, she pondered to herself what her soul was worth.

The elevator doors parted with a welcoming ding, signaling that Gazelle had arrived at the penthouse of her agent. Marble floor to glossed ceiling, and what only appeared as gold trimmed walls with fine art and an array of golden records, all spread out before her. The patio doors were opened for her as she apprehensively stepped forward and out to the private pool and met with her agent, Mr. Night. Gazelle twiddled her fingers, and couldn't predict how this meeting with Mr. Night would result. Normally he told her what to do, and she trusted his judgements and guidance. Now she would attempt to defy him and stand her ground.

"Don't be nervous." The panther cooed. "Nothing to fret about, Gazelle. This is just a simple meeting for you to see the direction the company wants your career to go in." He produced a binder from beneath his arm and handed it to her. With a puzzled glance, she took it and flipped it open to the first page. "These are some of the new concepts for branding, clothing, costuming, and media. We would like to have a photoshoot as soon as possible." She looked at the clothing, or lack thereof. The first page exhibited a stylized drawing of herself, and she immediately felt embarrassed how anyone could depict her in such scandalous attire. There was no need to see the rest of the binder's contents. She kept to her integrity and looked Mr. Night right in the eye.

"No." She announced. The panther didn't react but replied to her protest in a calm calculated tone as if he had been expecting it.

"If you want to continue your career with us, you will realize you don't have a choice in the matter." He was being just as strong in his demand. She said nothing else and stood her ground. The panther went on. "The social media analytics came to a fascinating conclusion. Your audience is largely made of a mature age set, about sixty-five percent to be specific. Having a more adult theme, a more adult image would boost your popularity ten-fold." She couldn't hold her tongue any longer.

"This is what you want? Put me on like some doll, some kind of... It's inappropriate! I won't have it, I'm not doing it! It's not me!" She huffed thinking frantically what to say next. Mr. Night looked at her as if he was trying to anticipate her next sentence.

"It's time we cut the kiddy stuff and move forward to what your loving audience wants. They want to see more of-"

"More of my body!? This will tarnish my name for years if I did this."

"Let me remind you again that you have no choice. I made you, and I can take it all away if I wanted. You can go back to singing on the corner for change if you so chose, but this is what your audience wants." He let the conversation pause for a breath. "Gazelle, it would be a shame if the police knew that you are here illegally." A ding at the elevator sounded. She looked to see that it was just the pool boy with a cart of supplies coming to work on the pool's chemistry. The young beaver had his earphones in, likely listening to her latest single for himself. It distracted her long enough to think of something strong to say.

"No! I won't let you threaten me with that! It doesn't matter anymore, no one cares! I know how this game works. As long as I can sing, I am priceless. I will continue to be myself and not one of your dancing puppets. There is no shame in that, unlike your new branding ideas!" She tossed the binder at him then started stepping backward to leave.

"Gazelle-" Mr. Night called to her as she backed up.

"You may think you have all of the power-"

"Gazelle!" He called again.

"-but as long as I have a voice-" Her heel caught an edge of something solid. The beaver hadn't been paying attention and neither had she. The cart stole her footing and she began to topple backward, and unable to stop her momentum. Her mind panicked and she reached for Mr. Night just out of her grasp, and instead grabbed the handle of the cart. She went down, pulling the cart over with her with the supply of pool chemicals. She clenched her eyes and braced for the inevitable impact. The hard concrete surface knocked the wind out of her as powdered chlorine spilled around her, creating a dense white cloud. She kept her eyes shut but gasped desperately for air. Her next breath was that of fire, dry and bolting down her long neck like a hot poker. She scrambled out of the mess and tried to breathe fresh air. A little at first, the air that came to her felt like ice on her burning throat, then the air came less and less.

Her nose and mouth were beginning to sting and she leaped for the pool, coming up short, and only managing to dunk her head and cooling the stinging in her mouth. She attempted to drink the pool water but nothing would go down. She quickly pulled her head out and wheezed a shrill noise of pain. Panic gripping tight, she clenched at her throat as it swelled and collapsed in on her. Mr. Night had already been on the phone as the beaver pulled her from the edge of the pool.

"You have to calm down! Just try to breathe!" The beaver told her. Her predicament became dire and the beaver was beginning to freak out. "Oh geez, I'm so sorry! I'm so-" Her lips were numb and blue, paws tingling, and stars appeared in her vision. She felt like a few minutes might have gone by as she looked up to a blurry figure. She thought it might have been a paramedic, she couldn't make the distinction. The color of the world had faded, the sound of voices distant, and after another moment of insensibility, she was unconscious.

Mr. Night approached the doctor as he checked on Gazelle in the emergency room. With a blank and stoic expression, he met with the doctor to ask about her.

"How is she?" The doctor lowered his head to the chart on the clipboard in his paws. He spoke in a collected manner, both from practice and having to deliver this kind of news over his years in his field.

"She'll live. Though if it wasn't for an emergency tracheotomy, she would have suffocated. Her throat was closing up and there are burns throughout, but her larynx received the most damage. The chlorine powder caused it to blister severely. We have her on anti-inflammatories for pain and swelling, and steroids to help the healing process. With some treatment, she will make a full recovery from the burns, but the damage to her larynx… she may never speak again." Mr. Night couldn't remain cool any longer and let his hard exterior wrinkle with anger. He looked to the floor and felt terrible, not for Gazelle, but for the business of keeping her talent. Mr. Night regarded Gazelle's words and wasn't sure if she came out victorious from their disagreement. He couldn't control her if she couldn't perform. This misfortune will change her life forever, and certainly, her super-stardom was over at that very moment, Mr. Night would make sure of it.

"Sir," a security guard called. The doctor and the panther looked to him walking toward them just down the hall. "The press got word of the incident. They don't know what exactly happened but they are looking for a statement from you." The panther looked hesitantly to the doctor, to Gazelle through the window in her intubated state, and made his exit to greet the press outside.

"What are you going to say?" The doctor called out. Mr. Night said nothing to him, adjusted his cufflinks, and opened the door to the rambunctious and curious crowd of news reporters. He took a moment to take it all in, then raised the palms of his paws to calm the eager crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sure you have many questions but let me start by saying Gazelle is alright. She merely stumbled by the pool and will be out of the hospital with a clean bill of health in no time at all. There is no need to worry about Zootopia's star, accidents happen. No further comments." The panther displayed a professional and dismissing smile and turned back inside. The doctor had been behind the scene, and heard everything. He stepped up to the walking panther to speak his mind.

"That was a lie."

"That was planning for the future." The doctor stopped and let the panther move on, dumbfounded by the scheme he witnessed. He didn't know what was about to happen but he feared for Gazelle.

Gazelle was finally home in her luxurious penthouse suite at the top of the Palm Hotel where there were no doctors or beeping machines to bother her. She sat staring into her vanity mirror and seeing her tired eyes staring back, then she tried her daily warm-up scales. Her throat stung as she attempted to sing the notes, and the air was filled with only a thin strained high screech like a dying animal, followed by voiceless breath. Her throat remained tight, and her vocal range critically limited to painful squeaks. Her effort immediately required a drink of water, and she nearly choked on it as she swallowed with difficulty. She assuredly thought the record company would help with her recovery and she could return to the stage to entertain her fans, to sing beautiful music again.

A knock came from the door, and she answered it with another wordless hurting squeak. The bodyguard was a wolf, one she hasn't seen before. He didn't look her in the eyes, but instead hung his head like he was in shame. He held a letter out to her. Gazelle took it from his shaky paw, then he dropped something else. Before she could figure out what was happening, the wolf ran off. He left behind a short straw, and Gazelle was overcome with a terrible feeling. She took the letter into her room and read it, seeing that her contract had been terminated and she was to return all company property. She knew what it meant, and she knew she'd be on her own very, very soon. It wasn't fair, she thought they loved her, but to them, she was just a product, a fad, nothing any more special than the previous or the next. Rage filled her, feeling disappointed and cheated, discarded and betrayed, and with all her emotions on fire, she stood and threw the stool into her vanity, shattering the mirror in a sharp crash and scattering her beauty products everywhere. She fell to the floor and screamed a savage cry in silence as she couldn't make a sound to express her devastation. Her heart broke into pieces far worse than the mirror. She huddled in on herself, rocking back and forth with her paws gripping her eyes tight while her nerves shook, and a severe fear taking residence in the hole left in her heart.

Three weeks had passed since the loss of her voice. Guitar music washed over the patio of the small cafe on the busy street corner. Cars of all shapes and sizes rushed to and fro, too quickly for them to hear the soothing melody. Its notes lulled the patrons of the cafe, and they tossed coins and sometimes dollar bills into the open guitar case at her shoeless hooves. Gazelle wished she could sing along so badly that sometimes her lips moved instinctively on their own, but no words ever escaped them.

She plucked the melody on her guitar, the same guitar that she started out with some years ago. Feeling it in her paws, it took her mind back to a time before she got swept up in the spotlight. Her personality was the same back then, she was mettled for performing all so well, but her accident damaged an elemental part of her, it shook her confidence and she felt minuscule in the tall city around her. The sky was growing overcast as the winds picked up for an afternoon rain shower, and defiantly she would play as long as she could, letting her fingers speak the lyrics that she could no longer let ring. Still reminiscing, she remembered working as a waitress at Bug Burga, and earning her way before the record company scouted her. Memories were all she had now, only providing a faint comfort, a subtle joy that it all happened, but the agony of losing it all was far greater.

The rain was dripping in and she had to pack up. She bowed to the patrons of the cafe without any applause to her, all too busy with their own phones, lunch, or obliviousness. She walked to her car, opened the trunk, and unenthusiastically set her guitar in the compartment next to the old and faded picket signs from long forgotten protests.

She once stood with predators, arms linked, and screamed with the determination and resilience against mandatory shock-collars for all predators. She fought for what was right, always has, and never forgot how unfair people can be. She gave predators a chance on the stage as dancers to show her support against the persecutions that once came their way. It was an unrestful time but the world was ever-changing, and this time it had changed right out from beneath her hooves. The car itself was hers, a piece of history before she was a star. It was a monument to her independence, and now it was everything she had. There was a lot of history in this car with its spots of rust and small dents from the careless, only now she has become a part of it. She lost everything else. The costumes, the shoes, her home and the luxuries she had grown accustomed to, it all belonged to the record company and they took it all away. She didn't fight them, she went quietly and made sure she could still get her old stuff back. She made sure to apologize for the mirror by simply leaving a note.

Closing the trunk, she checked the meter, expired. She glanced wide-eyed to the windshield and a ticket was stuck in the wiper. She didn't need this, not now and really not ever. She took a breath and looked at the charge on the back. Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach when she read the eighty dollars that needed to be paid, to which she couldn't afford the ticket, but couldn't afford the trouble far more than the ticket. She couldn't spare any chances of getting arrested, no one was around to protect her.

She opened the door and flipped open the glove compartment. She counted out how much money she had starting with the organized bills and moving down to the change separated in sandwich bags. She counted out the bills and quarters to get seventy dollars. Hoping she had made at least ten more a moment ago in the cafe. She will have to take care of the ticket, and then figure out what to eat for dinner.

"Hey Clawhauser," Chief Bogo called, "have you checked out the latest app?"

"Nah." Clawhauser muttered. He was too busy listening to the topic of the news on his own phone.

"You're missing out! It's great! See!" Clawhauser peeked at the screen the chief had put in his face. It was Bogo's head on a backup dancer for the new pop star that had risen out of Gazelle's ashes. A rhythm and bass singer by the name of Deebra was climbing in the charts as Gazelle's music had faded into obscurity. "Ho ho! Check me out! I look good!" He announced as he posed as Odysseus holding a spear. "Maybe I should work out more..." He mentioned to himself as he took his attention elsewhere. Clawhauser turned the volume up on his phone to drown out the idle workings of the office. The news anchor pitched the latest developing story.

"Gazelle's fall from stardom has shocked Zootopia. The pop idol has had some kind of breakdown, saying on her Twitter that she never liked the fans, but loved the money. Many more tweets throughout the week have colored the icon to be intolerant to-" Clawhauser closed his phone and sighed.

"I don't believe that for a second." He shuffled some papers into order as someone walked in the door. "Welcome to ZPD, how may I help-" He stopped mid-sentence. He had to rub his eyes to look again, he couldn't believe who had just walked in. "Gazelle?" Indeed it was her, though he almost didn't recognize her. Her plain buttoned shirt and long black skirt was off-putting for her usually vibrant personality, and the lack of her vibrancy was evident. The rain had dappled her shoulders and dampened her curly hair, flattening it and splitting its ends to take all of the style out of it. Her face looked as if she hadn't slept in days, or smiled in weeks. She meekly held an old purse in her paws and peered down at officer Clawhauser sitting at the desk before her. He sat up straighter in his chair and with his mind reeling with questions, he started with this one.

"What happened?" He asked. "The news said you had some sort of meltdown." She had an angered look in her eye that startled Clawhauser. She stood up straight and pointed to her neck. She tried to speak but all that she could produce was a strained squeak. Her expression was harsh, but a moment of silence from Clawhauser softened her demeanor. He felt immediately sympathetic.

"Oh no… You lost your voice..." There was a nod from Gazelle then more sad silence. A bright idea flashed into Clawhauser's mind. "Hey I know, do you have your phone? Text me! My number is, local area code, 555 - DNUT." She broke into a smile, delighted in his idea as well as the tactful phone number. She flipped the bottom flap of her purse and lifted her phone from it. As she typed in the number, a spot on her neck between her shoulders was illuminated. Clawhauser noticed. "What's that at the bottom of your neck, right here." He pointed on himself at the dimple at the top of his sternum. She touched the scar herself and began typing on her phone. In a brief second, his phone chimed with the incoming message.

"It's a scar. I couldn't breathe." Clawhauser's jaw dropped in shock.

"Is that how you lost your voice?" She began clicking away on her phone, Clawhauser looked to his phone, eager to know.

"Doctors put a tube there so I could live. I accidently fell into pool powder. It burned me." He was mortified with the news. She continued to type to him. "BTW I told them no." Clawhauser had to think for a moment but he did remember.

"That's right, at your concert, how could I forget. I'm glad you said no."

"It was the last thing I said." Her text read. "I wish I just said yes like they wanted. I would still be able to sing." Clawhauser looked up from his screen. The defeated Gazelle towering before him, once larger than life, now was smaller than a mouse. He looked at the scar again.

"The scar looks kinda like a heart." He smiled, then almost immediately regretted it. He awaited some backlash in text-form on his phone.

"It really does." Clawhauser sighed and took a deep sympathetic sigh for her.

"You're still all over the news, y'know? Not nice things are being said about you. I'm afraid someone will try to hurt you. The things you said on Twitter-" A text came in on his phone.

"Company owns my social media." She sniffed in once, not sure if she was going to cry or not. She remained strong, anger fading away and leaving the aftermath that sadness often occupied.

"Ah, I knew it wasn't you. You're a good person, and I still love you." She replied on her phone.

"Why?" Clawhauser thought for only a heartbeat then replied.

"That's easy, I love your music!" She rolled her eyes and blew her tangling hair from her face. "That's not all," He went on, "I've lived here a long time, and I also worked at the Bug Burga with you before you got your big break. Oh, how I admired you. Though back then I was a few donuts lighter, you'd never go for a guy like me, so I left you alone. A couple times on the streets, I have seen you play, and one time I dumped the contents of my wallet into your guitar case, but also you were arrested during the collar protests, and I spent my culinary school fund to bail you out." Clawhauser had a look of disappointment for a brief second before continuing. "So glad the Tame Collar Mandate never went through, I have enough trouble with the collar on my uniform!" She was speechless. He knew more about her than the typical fan. He wasn't vain about her, he respected her. "You've always had a big heart full of goodness, I've always seen it, and that's why I'll love you no matter what happens." For a moment, she stood like a statue clutching her phone and purse. The words lingered in her mind like echoes in a hall and sunk in. She clicked letters on her phone for him.

"Thank you. I needed that." It read. He smiled at her lovingly and she steadied her resolve. She continued typing. "I can get my old job back."

"That's the spirit! And never forget you still have a fan here at ZPD." He stated cheerfully. Her mind eased, she was now an optimistic Gazelle, one with hope in her heart, and her soul back in her eyes. "Say, I still have a job to do here. If you want to hang out for a moment, I need to file these records piling up here." He tapped the ordered folders with a claw. She nodded and took a seat on a bench while Clawhauser went elsewhere to complete his task. She had a moment to think, and thought that she could perhaps get a warm meal out of his kindness, but it wasn't a nice thing to do. Like she had before, she stuck to her integrity. She couldn't take advantage of the sweet cheetah like that, and with some effort, a job could be right around the corner and all would be ok. She sighed to herself, dismissed the terrible idea, and decided to move on. Gazelle paid the ticket with what she had in her purse and left the department without saying or texting goodbye to Clawhauser. She still had a job to do herself, she had to find dinner on her own.

The calendar flipped over to another month with seventy-one squares crossed out since the big red sad face was drawn on the day she lost everything. The dull fluorescent lighting illuminated the sleepy convenience store in the evening, with no one but the clerk and Gazelle inside. She placed a banana-nut muffin and a bottle of apple juice on the counter and started dumping change out of her aged and worn purse. The vinyl cracked as she shook it and the coins spilled in disorder before the cash register. The clerk scanned the barcodes and totaled her amount.

"Five thirty-five." She startled and looked in the small tray that often had pennies, which had just that in it. Disappointed, she sat the apple juice aside, now knowing that such luxuries were no longer something she could desire. She recounted the change for the muffin, paid, took the receipt, and bumped the door open with her hip as her paws began to unravel the muffin from its paper baking cup. She took a bite and closed her mouth around the bread of it when she stopped dead in her tracks. Clawhauser stopped as well exiting his car, and they both froze, astounded to see each other again. He stepped up to her without a word, letting the evening breeze and the hum of the old fluorescent sign hold the silence.

"Ga-" Was the only sound he could make. He looked her over, noting her longer unkempt tangled hair, and the luster of her personality lost as if she was a dusted portrait. Her jeans ripped with fibrous scratches and tears from constant wear, the lowest parts of the pants legs fading into light tones of dirt. The unbecoming gray shirt that loosely adorned her upper body was frayed around the edges and a sizable red stain splashed upwards on her right side. Someone had the mind to throw their drink at her, made her a victim of lies. Everything about her told of a struggle, she had the look of survival which never was a pretty sight. "Where have you been?" He asked. She didn't respond, she chewed the bite of her muffin and went over to her own car parked across the small parking lot from the convenience store. She opened the passenger door and pulled a nearly empty bottle of water from a plastic bag on the floor. Clawhauser had followed her.

She sat in the seat with her legs and head facing out of the car so she could listen to him. He looked past her and saw the dismal contents of the vehicle. In the cup holder was a plastic cup with a well-used toothbrush jutting out of it, a plastic shopping bag full of glass bottles and aluminum cans, and a short stack of forms with writing across them that he gathered were job applications. From the presence of a similar stack on the floor with the bag of cans, she wasn't having much luck finding work. He never would have thought that not being able to speak would impair her ability in the many facets of the job market.

"I texted you for a while to see how you were doing but it kept saying the messages weren't going through. I worried something might have happened to you, something bad." She sighed and ate her muffin, trying to savor the last meal of her day before curling up in the backseat to sleep. She made a phone gesture with her thumb and pinky to her ear, then extended her paw out and rubbed her fingers together to sign the commonly known gesture for money. "You sold it?" He realized. "That's ok, I'll buy you a new one tomorrow. I'll even put you on my family plan, it's just me and my Mama anyway." If Clawhauser's heart wasn't already a lead weight in his chest, it was now, and he couldn't believe how outcast and disconnected she had become. All this to save her integrity and dignity, was this any better? Last time they spoke, she was more optimistic about finding work and getting back on her hooves. Now she was knocking on the cold impenetrable surface of rock bottom. She was a million miles away in her head, beaten by the company that provided everything she ever dreamed of, and then took it away like the sadistic entity it was, and they never cared, never looked back. They didn't love her anymore, no one did, except Clawhauser. "Hey uh… I can't bear to see you like this. Gather your things, you're staying at my place tonight." She swallowed the last bite of the banana-nut muffin and some of the weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She was strong enough to last this long on her own, but now she couldn't refuse such an offer, it was just what she needed. She stood up and gave him a big hug, and wholly appreciated him. "Hey now, it's ok. I'll cook you a warm meal, and I'll even sleep on the couch."

Unlocking the door to his second-floor apartment, he opened it up to a dark living room with an attached kitchen and bedroom. Clawhauser pulled her suitcase in, sat it aside, and helped Gazelle with her guitar. She walked into the room with a second suitcase and sat it with the other one. She stood for a moment while Clawhauser searched out for the light switch.

"Tadaaa! My castle is your castle! Make yourself at home!" The light came on and he went to the bedroom to change into his evening clothes. On three whole walls, Gazelle posters covered them from floor to ceiling, or at least where space was available. There were lamp tables and a bookshelf with miniatures, figurines, collectibles, coffee mugs, T-Shirts, and photographs in picture frames, all products of her former career. She took in the room, noticing that he had a poster for every concert she ever had, even some rolled up and stuffed behind his sofa, which had a little stuffed Gazelle plushie sitting in its corner. Peering higher with awe, she read the posters from various times in the past years.

"A voice of a generation!" One old poster read, with her sitting with the same guitar that was there in the room with her. She looked at another.

"A sensational singer!" She was posing in this one, stretched out with a microphone in her paw like she could touch the very heavens themselves. She turned about-faced behind her to another.

"Hear her ROAR!" In large wild letters, posed with the tigers that made up her dance team. Her head spun, it was all right here, all of it, and she in that moment had her heart shattered by these remnants. Gazelle dropped to her knees in the center of this history museum. She couldn't hold it in anymore, and the final straw broke her. She curled down with her long neck and rained tears into her paws. She covered her face and sobbed deeply, body heaving, breath short between lurches. Clawhauser came into the room wearing a blue shirt and gray shorts, and wasn't expecting to see Gazelle in a puddle on the floor, erupting with grief as she truly began to mourn. His own jaw quivered at the realization. The unfathomable loss of one's dreams wasn't something anyone should ever witness, and here he was in her cell of anguish.

Clawhauser did the only thing he could do. He grabbed a big trash bag and shook it open with a violent whip of his arms. Starting with the bookshelf, he swept the figures and mugs into the bag. They clamored against the floor, against each other, some breaking as they collided. He tossed the plushie in and started on the posters, clawing them from the surfaces with an uncaring shred. Ripping down one after another, he exposed the yellow and taupe striped wallpaper forgotten beneath. He stuffed it all in the black trash bag with an angry haste as if it would take away all of her sadness. Lastly, he crumpled up the rolled posters and stuffed them just in the top of the nearly bursting bag. He looked to Gazelle, her hands parting from her face and seeing the room flayed of its skin to show a warm new pattern. The posters left slightly discolored squares in the wallpaper, just ghosts of something once there. Clawhauser looked at the room again, facing from Gazelle to survey his damage. He let go of the bag and let it settle in a slump on the floor.

"Oh, one more thing…" He added, pulling his phone from his pocket and thumbing it to the Gazelle app. "Delete!" He announced. That was all, it was all gone now. He heard a shuffling of knees on the floor and felt her arms come around him. Hugging him at his own height, she wrapped herself into his fluffy neck and nuzzled her nose into his cheek. He looked over his shoulder, seeing her beautiful earthen eyes seeing back at him. She tried to speak, but all she arrived at was a strained chirp, a broken note that could've meant anything. She pulled his head around, and placed her soft lips on his, and embraced him in a kiss that ignited his embering heart into living flame. She never wanted to leave this moment, caressing his lips as he reciprocated with his own. The sparks flew and he melted onto the floor, lying on it like lying on a cloud. He oohed and sighed with rapture, and she laid down next to him, closing any distance between them, and pressed cheeks. Her arms around him, he turned his head to her and met her eyes. "You're my angel with horns, and I'll love you no matter what happens." He professed. She closed her weary eyes and held tighter.

She would have to get her new phone tomorrow just to say she loved him too.