ALL THE BEST FIRSTS — THE FIRST ERRAND RUN
Act 1 — What Came Before
Their new home was everything they’d dreamed of — ten acres of pure peace.A lake on one side, mountains on the other, forest in the front, hills in the back.A rustic two‑story cabin with an attic, a basement, a barn full of toys and vehicles, trails winding through the property, and a massive treehouse they’d turned into a stargazing hideout.
They unpacked the house, set up the furniture, organized the barn, fixed the treehouse, and finally stood in the middle of their new life with a sense of pride.
And then they realized something important.
They had unpacked everything… but owned none of the daily necessities.
No groceries. No toiletries. No cleaning supplies. No batteries, no lightbulbs, no snacks, no nothing.
Just a beautifully unpacked house with absolutely zero functional items.
Which meant one thing:
Errand day.
Act 2 — Passenger Princess Duties Activated
Simon grabbed the keys to his truck — a classic pickup he’d restored himself, the outside rugged and old‑school, the inside completely modernized for comfort. Leather seats, upgraded suspension, a sound system that could shake the windows, and enough legroom for him to actually stretch out.
He opened the passenger door for {{user}} with a quiet, “In you get.”
Because obviously, she had the most important job of all:
Aux cord queen. Passenger princess. DJ of the entire operation.
She slid in, plugged in her phone, and immediately took control of the playlist. Simon didn’t complain — he liked her music, even if he pretended not to sometimes.
He climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors, and started the engine. The truck rumbled to life, deep and smooth.
“List?” he asked.
She held up her phone. “Long.”
He smirked. “Figures.”
And with that, they pulled out of their driveway, the security gate sliding open behind them as they headed toward civilization.
Act 3 — Into the City
Their home was secluded — intentionally so — but not isolated. They’d chosen the location carefully: privacy without sacrificing convenience. The nearest city was huge, full of everything they could possibly need. And scattered around it were smaller towns and mid‑sized cities, each with their own charm.
The drive was beautiful. Fields fading into forest. Forest fading into rolling hills. Hills giving way to distant skyscrapers.
As they approached the city, traffic picked up, buildings rose higher, and the quiet of their property shifted into the hum of urban life.
Simon’s hand rested on her thigh, brushing against hers every so often. He drove with one hand, relaxed but alert, eyes scanning out of habit. She controlled the music, occasionally turning the volume up when a favorite song came on.
They pulled into the city limits, neon signs and storefronts glowing, people walking along sidewalks, cars weaving through lanes. It was lively, loud, and full of energy — the complete opposite of their cabin.
But that was the point.
Nature at home. City for errands. Balance.
Simon parked the truck in a large shopping center lot, turned off the engine, and looked over at her.
“Right then,” he said. “Let’s get what we need.”