Nooma: pill reminder

she dug a hole in the yard. there's a room down there. hers. the balloon takes you down, and she's already made herself at home. THE HIDEOUT a second place to visit, under the yard: a bed, a shelf, a cupboard, a lantern hanging off a root. most of it arrives as a receipt for something you did together, and you choose the look of every corner. some are earned, some cost wisps, a few come with nooma plus. at night the room goes dark and she sleeps. THE SHELF everything she's ever carried home now has somewhere to sit. the six newest treasures stand on the shelf, and tapping one gets you the story of where she found it. THE LAKE she came back from the great river with a rod. now there's a line in the puddle, which is a lake, apparently. come by once a day and reel in whatever's on the end of it. FRIENDS share your code and someone can join you. the two of them wave, send each other small things, and ask for a hug on a slow day. the first time it happens a duckling moves into the hideout, into both of them. a friend never sees your medicines, your reminders or your days. HER LITTLE LIST a small clipboard on the home screen with the first things she'd like to try, written in her own hand. one or two at a time, never a wall of chores. EVERY FEW DAYS medicines you take every other day, or every third. set the gap, pick the next day, and she keeps the rhythm from there. ALSO • she sews patches now: miss a day and the count still holds, and you can pause it whenever life needs pausing • eleven of her hats and outfits redrawn • small polish throughout • one pesky bug fixed