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It had been a full year since he was promoted. Tom was busy on the phone while proofreading a document the helpful vixen in the next cubicle over had written up for him. With his middle name Busy, Tom hardly had any free time save for the day or two a week he took off, which was really just spent working from home remotely. The lion's mane was ragged from exhaustion.

O'Reily came out of a door at the far end of the hall and joined Tom in his office, the Mink sitting in a side chair patiently. When Tom had set down the phone and signed off the papers, he finally took a deep breath and looked at his boss.

"Yes, sir? Is there something I can do for you?"

"Well, i think it is something more for yourself, my boy."

"What do you mean mister O'Reily?"

The mink stood and brushed dust from his coat that simply was not there. "Well, Mister Stimpson, you have been working for almost a year now as an executive marketing manager, and by law I must give you two week's vacation."

The big cat stood up quickly. "But sir! I'm almost done with my work on wireless transmisions! I cannot leave just yet!" Tom was overworked and underslept, and though he knew it, all he had in his life was work. His father never called, mentally crippled after his mother's death years ago. No siblings to have a reunion, and friends included his trusty stapler and computer.

"I am truly sorry to say this, but you have only today left before your vacation starts. We have temporarily deactivated your punch number and remote access account so you can just relax. Here's a little bonus you wouldn't let me give you for christmas. Go home, Tom. And not the home in Chicago. Go visit your mother, she of all people deserves a visit from you this spring."

It was almost exactly 7 years ago that his mother had died. So much had happenned since then it was hard to keep track of it all. He graduated with a 4.0 from both high school and college, and had been working in Chicago for two years for the marketing guru O'Reily. He hadn't gone home in 7 years. The realization struck him like a foul chord.

"I think I'll leave an hour early, sir, if I may."

"I punched you out before I came in," The mink gave a shifty smile with a wink.

Tom grabbed his blazer and walked to the elevator, taking it down to the garage floor under the high-rise. His porche was waiting for him patiently in the near-empty lot, and chirped happily as Tom unlocked it and got in. Purring down the road towards his flat, Tom had a lot to think of.

---

"Flight 294 now arriving to terminal 3 Gate H," rang the loud and nasally voice of the computer system above his head as Tom left the plane into the port. He shifted his luggage onto his left shoulder and walked towards the belt where his suitcase was circling with the other bags. Missing the first time, he tried again to find he grabbed the wrong bag.

"Oh, thank you dearie! I'd ne'er have grabbed that off the belt meself were it no' fer you!" A frail and haunched older parrot came up to him with her cane and patted his arm in thanks. "They don't tend to make young'ns like ye anymore. When I was but a wee lass in Edinburgh, well, ye hardly would like te hear a crone goin' on 'bout her glory days!" She laughed and hobbled off with her impossibly large baggage and nearly hit a clumbsy kid who ran in front of her with her cane, shouting something about kids in her time having manners.

Tom chuckled and found the right bag before hailing down a cab himself. It took about half an hour to get from the main city into his smaller town, but the driver took a well-known road to Tom; Main street. Passing 5th and then 4th, Tom remembered the market that used to be here. Not much was popped up these days, just a few vendors selling gems and contraband items.

The corner of 2nd passed by with an emptiness known only to loss. Soon they turned down the street of Tom's hotel and the cab driver collected his fare and drove off. Tom looked up at the modest 5 story hotel and walked towards the gates, stopping to give the homeless man by the door two dollar bills.

"Can I take your bags for you, sir?" Came the call from Tom's right. He looked over and saw a young otter dressed in a tight-fitted hotel concierge outfit coming over.

"Oh of course! My room number is 304." The lion slipped a five into the palm of the younger boy with the handle of the suitcase and took pleasure in seeing the boy's face light up in joy.

"Thank you sir!"

"Be careful with it now, my laptop is in there," Tom called after the cub as the boy ran to the service elevator, bags in hand. He wasn't a boy, really. The otter just looked young for his age, which the lion placed at maybe 17 or 18. Tom walked over to the desk and asked for his reservation room key before heading up to find his luggage on his bed along with a five dollar bill and a note.

Sir, though I appreciate the offer, my mother told me to never be paid for a kindness except for a kindness in return.

_ _ Though unsigned, he knew who it was from. The carefully written note was then folded and, along with the 5, stuffed under the mattress. Maybe he would find it later if he cleaned the room, Tom thought. The boy reminded him of his mother and the reason why he came.

---

It was dark before Tom finally arrived back at his room in the hotel. Third day searching for his mother's grave had prooved fruitless. There were three cemeteries in this little town, and he had scoured all of them in search for her name, but found none so marked. It was beginning to gnaw at his stomach. His father knew Mom didn't want to be kept on the mantle like a trophy, but what if His father had done it out of grief, not pride?

The thought gave him shivers. It was nearly 9 at night, and he was exhausted. Flopping onto bed, he took off his jacket and kicked off his shoes before a quiet knock came from the door.

"Yes?" Tom yelled across the room.

The sound of a plastic card sliding in and out of the socket came before a gentle beep and openning of the door before the little otter boy came in once more with a piece of paper.

"Sir," he offered the paper out at this point, "I overheard you talking to the concierge, and wanted you to know there was a fourth cemetery that was shut down a few years back from a lack of funding. I circled it on the map there for you so you could find your mother."

"Thank you very much, young man." Tom gave him a pat on the shoulder. "Now its late and I'm sure you don't work much longer, so off with you. If you over-work, your boss man will make you take a vacation like mine did!"

Laughing the otter nodded and left the room, offering a quick and slight bow before he shut the door. Tom liked the kid, full of good intent. But he had seen the boy somewhere before, he was sure of it. Or was it just the deep sorrow he read in the boy's eyes, masked behind contempt and joy? His eyes were what he saw reflected then, and he slowly leaned back to shed tears for his lost mother like he hadnt since the day he ran from school.

---

The next day Tom slipped through a hole in the fence that surrounded the old cemetery, losing a few pettals from his boquet as he did so. Brusing himself off, he walked along the weed-filled path until he came to a wooden marker aged with moss and neglect. It really went to show what happens without a keeper to make sure it looked nice. Though, this cemetery looked old anyhow. The stone nearest Tom showed the date of death to be fifty years ago.

"Well great, just an other goose chase." Tom walked along the path, gazing into the weathered numbers of stones and lives lost in time. The trees looked as morose as the pathway, but it all seemed to fit together as though a setting created just so. On top of a small hill there was a tree and a group of headstones that looked a bit better taken care of than the rest, and as he walked closer on the path, he saw one that was still edged and shining with the gloss of a newly cut stone.

"Mom," He said, coming off the path to kneel next to the stome that read 'Emma, The giver that gave until she had only breath to give.' He set the flowers down against the stone and sat himself next to the tree, crossing his legs in front of him as he looked into the branches of the tree.

He must have sat there for hours, talking to something that hung in the air, thirsty for the company he gave as he told the sky his past few years. Tom retold how he graduated with high honors, then went off the a renowned tech institute to study design and marketing before being hired nearby in Chicago. Then he told her of his promotion, ideas and work of more recent times, and how his boss made him come here.

The tree seemed to still as he spoke, listening as all the lonely stones were to the lion's stories of adventure, gain, and loss. Recalling the times he and his mother had walked down to the market for fresh fruit, buying oranges with her, and then he recalled the lady who they gave money every week. "I didn't even know here name," Tom said sadly.

As if in responce, a leaf floated down slowly, twirling and shifting in the breeze, to land on a grass-obscured plate in the ground. 'Martha Penndle, date and cause of death unknown.' Tom, without thinking why, took a flower from his own boquet and placed it solemnly upon the plaque. "How about that, Mom? Still able to give even from beyond this life."

Tom stood from his seat and checked the time. It was getting to be late and time for dinner, so he walked briskly down the hill before turning around and sending a kiss towards the tree. It waved him into his car with the wind, and watched the rental drive slowly away down the road.

---

By the time he had gotten to the main road again, Tom saw it was already dark. "Nine already? Damn." He knew not many places would be open besides the Denny's downtown, but he needed some gas first. Making a turn at 2nd and Main, he pulled into a gas station not far down the road.

As with most small-town stations in the area, this one wasn't a self-serve. A little shack across the lot sat with a flickering neon sign that read "pump service" across the window. It was more of a small waiting room for the workers on rainy or cold days but no one seemed to come out when Tom pulled up to a pump. He waited a minute before honking his horn, hungry and ready for bed. No one.

Tom sighed and unbuckled himself. Sometimes these care-free towns frustrated him to no end. He had just stepped out of a world where if things were late, even if just by a minute or two, it could cost his company thousands in lost revenue, and into a world where time wasn't an issue. It was strange to the lion to wake up in the morning to his alarm, only to remember he had nowhere to go and nothing to do. He opened his car door and stepped out into the evening air, damp with the promise of rain.

Movement in the larger building that sold light grocery and vices appeared to be a worker in a blue uniform yelling animately into a phone set onto the wall. Tom walked over and entered.

"-and don't you dare think about coming in to work tomorrow night!" A scruffy looking badger with need of a comb slammed the phone onto the receiver, his poor comb-over sagging onto his forehead. Startled by the dling of the door as it opened, he composed himself and extended a hastened welcome. "W-welcome to Gas Stop! I'm sorry you had to hear that, one of our younger employees must have fallen asleep while on duty again. Hehe. I'm so sorry sir for the wait. I'll assist you with your gas today, how much would you like to put in?"

Tom held up his hands, trying to calm to disgruntled worker somewhat. "Oh no, not at all! I was just on my phone checking a few e-mails and didn't even notice there was a service pump here! I'm used to self-service machines, so really it isn't a big deal." Tom handed the clerk his company gas card and looked about the counter for nothing while he was rung up.

"Fill'er up, eh? Will do, sir!" He swiped the card, brushing the longer fur from his face back onto his head. The badger was somewhat overweight, his name tag was smudged, and vest smeared with something yellow. Tom looked up as he was given his card back.

"That was a little harsh, to fire an employee for the first time falling asleep on the job, don't you think? I mean, I've definitely been drained before and I'm sure you have too, right?"

The two of them walked out together and towards Tom's rental. He wasn't quite sure what made him speak up just then, but this town wasn't too busy and the badger just seemed to be someone taxing enough to talk to, let alone work for.

"Really? I don't think I was harsh enough! I've fired that rat more times than I can count and yet he comes back every night and pumps gas... And I still pay him! Bah!"

Throwing his hands into the air in frustration the badger stepped up to the pump and pulled out the nozzel. Tom leaned against his car, happy to hear someone didn't lose a job over him being here. He fiddled with his phone as the humming of the pump started up. A glance at the numbers showed the pump was doing its job: quickly filling his car with somewhat over-priced gas. As he looked back, though, he saw the sign above the shack go out and a young otter step out, vest in hand and head towards the ground.

"Hey kid! Get over here and finish filling this up for me! The least he can do for bein' a total moron, eh?" Grungey Shirt just laughed and walked back into the storefront, shutting the door firmly behind him with a last look of contempt at the boy walking closer.

"What a prick, eh kid?" Tom said, putting his phone back in his pocket.

"Haha, yeah, I guess he is an interesting guy. He means well in the end." Tom recognized the voice from the hotel. The otter stepped into the lighted pump station to finish the job and smiled at the lion. "How was the cemetary? Successful I hope."

Tom just smiled. "I found what I was looking for, and a little bit more. Say," he said, turning more directly to the boy, "how did you know about that cemetery? It doesn't seem like a well-visited part of town."

Returning the nuzzle to the socket and twisting the gas cap back onto Tom's vehicle, the otter just nodded. "It was an overflow lot for the other cemeteries when they found better locations for more Help / Problems / Suggestionswealthy clientele. My mom is burried there too, so I know it pretty well."

"Then it seems we have something in common. More than one thing, actually." The boy's ears perked up at this. "Why on Earth are you working this late? It's nearly 9 at night and I saw you this morning before I left at the hotel."

He just shooke his head and laughed, reaching up to rub his neck. "Well, rent is kind of a lot of money and I don't have much else to do around here but work, so I work when I can. I like it though!"

The smile was what got to Tom; it was a genuine smile. This kid, he couldnt be any older than 20, slaved away for what? Why did he enjoy it? Productive, but while Tom liked productivity he also needed sleep. "When do you ever take a break?"

"When things are slow here at night I take naps. Usually I hear cars pull up but im a little extra tired today I think and missed yours coming in. At the hotel I can normally find things to do in the gym or pool when I'm off duty."

"No, I mean when you do have a day off?"

Looking around, as if to catch a date in the air, the otter hmm'ed. "Well... I work at the hotel most of the week from mid-morning to evening and walk down here to work through most of the night. I work here every night though, so I guess I don't have any?" He gave a little laugh and shrugged his shoulders. "I like working. It gives me something to do."

"Well I've been there before. Why did you think I was here of all places?"

"To visit your mom?"

Tom shifted, words caught in his throat. Softly he nodded and said, "Yeah, I guess that's why." A short silence passed between the two, each looking at the other. Tom's stomach finally broke the silence.

"Well, to hell with being a lion if I can't roar louder than my belly! Haha. Since you're recently fired and al, would you like to grab a bit to eat with me ..." Tom waved his hand, trying to remember if he has learned the otter's name yet or not. He was sure it was on a name tag or something somewhere because something was on the tip of his tongue.

"Joey. Joey Penndle," The newly named hopper/pumper said with a smile, extending his hand. "It is nice to meet you, Mister!"