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A special Day

By NHanon
Created: 2024-10-07 14:04:25
Expiry: Never

  1. 1.
    >The walk back home feels more like a march.
  2. 2.
    >That itself is addled by the accumulated aches and pains throughout today’s work.
  3. 3.
    >All in all, nothing too unusual.
  4. 4.
    >Thankfully, respite lies ahead at home.
  5. 5.
    >Once within that sanctuary, you can finally-
  6. 6.
    >“Rest?” calls out a familiar voice.
  7. 7.
    >Broken out of your stupor, you spot Connie standing by your front door.
  8. 8.
    “Hey there, what’s up?”
  9. 9.
    >Her brow knits, “Well, I’m here to get you.”
  10. 10.
    >It’s your turn to knit your brow.
  11. 11.
    “For…?”
  12. 12.
    >A hint of a twitch is on her face, “Did you forget what today is?”
  13. 13.
    >Wracking your brain results in shaking your head.
  14. 14.
    “No, not really. Why, is it important?”
  15. 15.
    >The second that question leaves your mouth, everything clears up.
  16. 16.
    >It’s worsened by her gaze narrowing in on you.
  17. 17.
    >Her visible displeasure is not unfounded.
  18. 18.
    >That whole interaction happened a bit ago, with it replaying every so often.
  19. 19.
    >Because today is special, and it has been discussed at length for nearly a month.
  20. 20.
    >But the combination of work, along with a case of being scattered brain, has kept it off your mind for the past few days.
  21. 21.
    >Yet here you are now, trudging slowly after Connie.
  22. 22.
    >“What’s the hold up?” she asks, looking back.
  23. 23.
    >Although it was on you for forgetting about today, she seems to be forgetting your own troubles.
  24. 24.
    “Oh I don’t know… Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been on my hooves for nearly /twelve/ hours?”
  25. 25.
    >A small scrunch crosses her muzzle, to which she slows to match your pace.
  26. 26.
    >“Ah, right. I didn’t consider that.”
  27. 27.
    “Yeah, I noticed.”
  28. 28.
    >Was that rude? A bit.
  29. 29.
    >But, it was the truth, nonetheless.
  30. 30.
    >Whatever her reason, she tends to forget how much of a literal pain your career is.
  31. 31.
    >And with today, not only did she forget, but she dumped not one, but TWO full bags of supplies onto you.
  32. 32.
    >She softly sighs, “All right.” And looks at you with a smile, “I admit that I /may/ be pushing you a little much.”
  33. 33.
    >Not even a second passes before she follows that up, “No, I’m sorry. That isn’t right. I am pushing you a lot today, Rest.”
  34. 34.
    >Good, at least she realizes that.
  35. 35.
    >“Though despite that, we’ve been talking about this in our meetings, so I want to keep to the schedule discussed.”
  36. 36.
    >Correction: the schedule /she/ wanted.
  37. 37.
    >You felt that winging it was easier, if not, better.
  38. 38.
    >Needless to say, that didn’t sit well when it was brought up.
  39. 39.
    >That doesn’t matter much now.
  40. 40.
    >Today is important, after all.
  41. 41.
    >So, souring it should be avoided at all costs, if possible.
  42. 42.
     
  43. 43.
    >Drawing yourself up, you spare her a friendly smile.
  44. 44.
    “Connie, I’m sure everything will be fine. You just need to…”
  45. 45.
    >You tilt your head from side-to-side.
  46. 46.
    “...dial it back, that’s all.”
  47. 47.
    >“I suppose you’re right,” she replies. “Though I do find that to be a bit surprising.”
  48. 48.
    >You arch a brow.
  49. 49.
    “What do you mean?”
  50. 50.
    >“Because I thought you would be just as enthusiastic about today as I am.”
  51. 51.
    “Again: I’ve been working nearly all day…”
  52. 52.
    >That twitch from before returns, stronger this time.
  53. 53.
    >She says nothing, otherwise.
  54. 54.
    >While you’re no ray of sunshine, she’s different, and not necessarily in a good way.
  55. 55.
    >Speaking of sunshine, there’s a lot of ponies out today; all friendly, too.
  56. 56.
    >Most give a little wave, some a warm greeting, and others engage in simple, little chitchat.
  57. 57.
    >Connie always returns either of the first two in kind.
  58. 58.
    >As for you, well…
  59. 59.
    >“Good afternoon, ladies,” greets a graying stallion.
  60. 60.
    >Unlike Connie, you shoot him a hard glare, which hurries him along without a further word.
  61. 61.
    >A pang of guilt stirs in your guts.
  62. 62.
    >Mistakes were made, but can be avoided if the situation presents itself later.
  63. 63.
    >At least this trip is almost over, as there is just one final turn ahead, then the matter of following the road until the destination is reached.
  64. 64.
    >You two round the corner, yet stop almost immediately upon doing so.
  65. 65.
    “Oh come on…”
  66. 66.
    >A heavy, slightly hushed sigh escapes your companion.
  67. 67.
    >Almost entirety of the street is covered in produce, trash, and other assorted bits and bobs.
  68. 68.
    >That’s all sourced from a rather large pileup of carts.
  69. 69.
    >There’s a crowd of various ponies gathered here, too, with none of them doing anything but arguing, gossiping, and/or gawking at the scene.
  70. 70.
    >“How did this even happen…?” asks Connie breathlessly.
  71. 71.
    “Dunno, but it did.”
  72. 72.
    >“This is just great,” she starts. “It’s going to delay everything I planned out, and-”
  73. 73.
    >You tune her out, seeking for a route.
  74. 74.
    >That appears in an instant.
  75. 75.
    >In spite of the aches, and the teetering of emotions, it’s clear what you must do.
  76. 76.
    >With that, you take off in a full gallop.
  77. 77.
    >“Rest, where are you going?!” calls out Connie.
  78. 78.
    >Explaining would take too long.
  79. 79.
    >There is no need to give her a glance to know that she’s giving chase.
  80. 80.
    >Through the many yards you two dash, and around ponies in said yards, along with whatever else is in them.
  81. 81.
    >Fences are leapt over as the impromptu marathon continues.
  82. 82.
    >Angry shouts, glares, and even literal trash are thrown at you.
  83. 83.
    >None of that slows your advance, as you dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge.
  84. 84.
     
  85. 85.
    >After getting through the very last yard, you come to an abrupt stop, though because you reached your destination, but-
  86. 86.
    >“Y-you…” *wheeze* “...you c-could have warned m-me first…” says Connie.
  87. 87.
    >That, and you’re not fairing any better.
  88. 88.
    >You can’t muster a response, save for waving her off with a nod.
  89. 89.
    >Your body trembles, having compounding the effects from work earlier.
  90. 90.
    >It’s then, without warning, you plop your rear onto the ground, still huffing and puffing all the while.
  91. 91.
    >Connie suddenly gasps.
  92. 92.
    >You raise a brow in question, but understand when she scrambles to check the bags you dropped unceremoniously next to you.
  93. 93.
    >Her eyes widen, “No, no, no!”
  94. 94.
    >Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
  95. 95.
    >You peek into a bag, finding the contents to likely be in the same shape as the other.
  96. 96.
    “Oh.”
  97. 97.
    >She snaps her head to you.
  98. 98.
    >A very strong, powerful twitch is in her eye, “It’s crushed, isn’t it?”
  99. 99.
    >Despite knowing better, you half-shrug and nod.
  100. 100.
    >“I can’t believe this,” she growls.
  101. 101.
    >She points a hoof at you, gaze tunneling in, “And it wouldn’t have happened had you not just taken off like some brainless oaf!”
  102. 102.
    >Oh here we go…
  103. 103.
    >Remember: stay calm, be the bigger mare.
  104. 104.
    >It would be easier with a little cider…
  105. 105.
    “Stop yelling, please.”
  106. 106.
    >Her body begins to visible shake as her face turns from pink to red.
  107. 107.
    >You swiftly boop the tip of her muzzle with a hoof.
  108. 108.
    “Hold it. Take a deep breath in, then out, okay?”
  109. 109.
    >She continues to shake, but does nod, and starts to breath as you said.
  110. 110.
    >She does the whole process again and again, with each exhale appearing to ease her a little.
  111. 111.
    >Eventually, a small, calm smile forms on her lips.
  112. 112.
    “Better?”
  113. 113.
    >She nods.
  114. 114.
    “’kay, let me see what I can do to fix this.”
  115. 115.
    >Saying nothing, she lets you have at the bags.
  116. 116.
    >You fiddle with the contents of both, doing your best to undo the damage.
  117. 117.
    >That effort amounts to, well…
  118. 118.
    “Eh, I tried.”
  119. 119.
    >She looks over each, working her jaw a moment before shaking her head, “It’s fine, I suppose.”
  120. 120.
    >That went better than expected.
  121. 121.
    >Knowing how she can be, however, they’ll be lecture about this later.
  122. 122.
    >You pick up the bags, and follow her to the lonely little house at the edge of the road.
  123. 123.
    >While she knocks and you two wait, you peer down the road.
  124. 124.
    >The chaos from before is exactly the same as when you first saw it.
  125. 125.
    >You shake your head.
  126. 126.
    >A minute passes in silence.
  127. 127.
    >Connie knocks once again.
  128. 128.
    >There is still silence.
  129. 129.
    “Odd…”
  130. 130.
    >“Maybe she’s not home today?”
  131. 131.
    >Shaking your head again, you give her a look.
  132. 132.
    “Not likely.”
  133. 133.
    >“Hey, for all we know, she’s out taking a walk through the park, or maybe she’s at the bookstore.”
  134. 134.
    >You deadpan.
  135. 135.
    “Seriously?”
  136. 136.
    >“What? It’s entirely possible.”
  137. 137.
    >As optimistic as that is, that’s a clear cover for worry.
  138. 138.
    >Not that you blame her though, because you’re certainly starting to feel it, too.
  139. 139.
     
  140. 140.
    >You opt to knock, though louder than she did.
  141. 141.
    >Time passes by, earning the same response as the last two.
  142. 142.
    >That leaves one action.
  143. 143.
    >You set down the bags, and turn around.
  144. 144.
    “Stand back, I’m gonna buck it down.”
  145. 145.
    >Her eyes go as wide as saucers.
  146. 146.
    >Before you can go any further, she stomps, “Whoa there, Rest!”
  147. 147.
    >She whips her head back-and-forth, planting herself between you and the door.
  148. 148.
    >“Let’s not get too hasty. The last thing we want is to overact.”
  149. 149.
    >Ironic…
  150. 150.
    >This isn’t the time for arguing, however.
  151. 151.
    “What if she’s hurt?”
  152. 152.
    >Any semblance of calm dissolves immediately from her face.
  153. 153.
    >In its place, a darker, more colder sight appears, “Then I’d tear apart the world to save her.”
  154. 154.
    >You adopt a wide grin.
  155. 155.
    “Now you’re speaking my language.”
  156. 156.
    >Just as you go to buck, she raises a hoof, “Wait!”
  157. 157.
    “What is it this time?”
  158. 158.
    >“At least let me check if it’s locked first.”
  159. 159.
    >You utter a low groan.
  160. 160.
    “There is no time for that…”
  161. 161.
    >“Let me try, anyway.”
  162. 162.
    >Sighing, you step aside.
  163. 163.
    >She turns the handle easily, and looks back to you, “See? There was no need for force.”
  164. 164.
    “True, but it shouldn’t be unlocked.”
  165. 165.
    >She nods, “Agreed.”
  166. 166.
    >The two of you hurry inside.
  167. 167.
    >Most of the living room is dim, lit only by the open door, with few cracks of light coming from around the closed curtains.
  168. 168.
    >Connie draws said curtains open, though nothing appears out of the ordinary.
  169. 169.
    >A simple look is shared between you two says what to do next: search.
  170. 170.
    >You check the basement, while she deals with the first floor.
  171. 171.
    >It’s dark, damp, cluttered, but otherwise, there’s nothing down there.
  172. 172.
    >That feeling from the front door is fed by nothingness.
  173. 173.
    >You return to Connie.
  174. 174.
    “Anything?”
  175. 175.
    >“No.”
  176. 176.
    “Same here.”
  177. 177.
    >It doesn’t need to be said to know what you’re both feeling.
  178. 178.
    >A light creak comes from upstairs, drawing you both into looking up, with your ears twitching.
  179. 179.
    >There’s a moment of silence, then the creak comes again.
  180. 180.
    >Yet another exchange of a look moves you two into going upstairs.
  181. 181.
    >That itself is slow, feeling heavier than it should be.
  182. 182.
    >There’s a few rooms up here: the bedroom, bathroom, and the attic.
  183. 183.
    >Out of the three, the bedroom has sole attention.
  184. 184.
    >What feels like a cold chill billows from it.
  185. 185.
    >That only grows worse when you’re both standing in front of the closed door.
  186. 186.
    >A hard lump forms in your throat.
  187. 187.
    >You swallow it down, and glance at Connie, seeing her face likely the same as yours.
  188. 188.
    >Carefully, you open the door.
  189. 189.
    >Like the rest of the home, it’s dimly lit.
  190. 190.
    >Every step is slow, slower than going up, and even heavier somehow.
  191. 191.
    >Aside from yours and Connie’s breathing, it’s silent.
  192. 192.
    >Just like the living room, Connie pulls aside the curtains, but that does not make the situation any better.
  193. 193.
    >The desk is a disorganized mess of papers (crumpled or straight), pencils, pens, and razors.
  194. 194.
    >The bookshelves have been emptied, with their contents strewn across the floor.
  195. 195.
    >And the bed has its bedding sprawled out haphazardly.
  196. 196.
     
  197. 197.
    >This atmosphere, it’s thick, harsh, hard to breath.
  198. 198.
    >Everything feels frozen in time.
  199. 199.
    >But that itself ends.
  200. 200.
    >Because you see it.
  201. 201.
    >Connie sees it.
  202. 202.
    >The closet door is closed.
  203. 203.
    >It’s /never/ been closed before.
  204. 204.
    >If it was cold before, it’s now freezing.
  205. 205.
    >A shiver courses throughout your coat as you two approach the closet.
  206. 206.
    >You’re not sure who did it first, but both yours and her hoof are on the handle.
  207. 207.
    >A single look is shared, then you both rip the door open.
  208. 208.
    “ERI!”
  209. 209.
    >“ERI!”
  210. 210.
    >“Oh come on… why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”
  211. 211.
    >She manages to utter a single ‘eep!’ as she’s glomped by you two.
  212. 212.
    >“Nuuu! Stop it, I did not give you permission to touch me. This is a bad touch.”
  213. 213.
    >“Don’t you /ever/ dare scare me like that again,” cries out Connie.
  214. 214.
    >If you could, you’d say something similar.
  215. 215.
    >She is safe.
  216. 216.
    >She is all right.
  217. 217.
    >She still groans in mock agony.
  218. 218.
    >But despite that, the lingering fear withers away for the time being.
  219. 219.
    >At last, you’re able to speak freely.
  220. 220.
    “H-hey, um. Happy birthday, Eri.”
  221. 221.
    >“That’s right,” starts Connie. “Happy birthday, dear.”
  222. 222.
    >Eri deeply sighs, then shifts her gaze from you to Connie.
  223. 223.
    >“It’s just another long, dark year of rotting and suffering; edging me closer and closer to the cold embrace of the grave.”
  224. 224.
    >She’s still herself.
  225. 225.
    >It takes some effort, but you two do get her downstairs to the couch.
  226. 226.
    >Connie retrieves the bags from outside, and pulls out a large box from one.
  227. 227.
    >It’s revealed to be a cake, which surprisingly, is intact.
  228. 228.
    >“I don’t deserve this,” mutters Eri.
  229. 229.
    >“You deserve a lot. Doesn’t she, Rest?”
  230. 230.
    “Yeah, of course she does.”
  231. 231.
    >“The only thing I deserve is death,” wails Eri.
  232. 232.
    >Connie lightly titters while tending to the cake.
  233. 233.
    >You grab a gift at random from the other bag.
  234. 234.
    “Here, open this.”
  235. 235.
    >A brief look of disapproval appears on Connie’s face, which you promptly ignore.
  236. 236.
    >“I…” Eri starts, shaking her head, “I don’t know how to feel about this.”
  237. 237.
    “I dunno, maybe happy?”
  238. 238.
    >Okay, that was a poor choice of words.
  239. 239.
    >And from the look Connie is giving you, it’s a mutual thought.
  240. 240.
    >Eri utters a disturbing mix of a laugh and cry, and shakes her head.
  241. 241.
    >“...as if that would ever happen to me.”
  242. 242.
    >She’s always been like this, even before you two first met at the hospital years ago.
  243. 243.
    “Well, go on, and open it, anyway.”
  244. 244.
    >She tries, but is having a hard time due to the knot.
  245. 245.
    >That’s Connie’s work; you always make yours so simple that even a foal could open it.
  246. 246.
    >Eri’s frustration boils over into her biting and snapping the twine with a grunt.
  247. 247.
    >You can’t help but utter a small giggle, which earns a glare from her.
  248. 248.
     
  249. 249.
    >Her attention falls back to the box, and she opens it, then pauses, staring at the inside for a moment.
  250. 250.
    >Her eyes widen as she pulls out the gift, “A poetry book.”
  251. 251.
    >There’s a very brief, small twitch at the corners of her mouth.
  252. 252.
    >“And…” she opens to the first page, “you even got the author to sign it, too.”
  253. 253.
    >Connie beams, “I knew you’d like it.”
  254. 254.
    >Not wanting to be outdone, you fish out another gift, finding one of yours.
  255. 255.
    >Eri has a much easier time opening it, and upon doing so, that twitch appears again.
  256. 256.
    >“A teddy bear.”
  257. 257.
    >She hugs it close, drawing a little warmth from your chest.
  258. 258.
    “Do you like it?”
  259. 259.
    >A stupid question, but you like asking, anyway.
  260. 260.
    >She nods silently while still hugging it close.
  261. 261.
    >The last of the candles are set, then lit, and as Eri looks to it, a small twinkle is in her eyes.
  262. 262.
    >“I, uhm, well… thanks, girls.”
  263. 263.
    “Anytime.”
  264. 264.
    >“You’re welcome, dear.”
  265. 265.
    >Honestly, despite all the troubles today – the long work shift, forgetting what today is, the pileup, or even the scare from earlier – everything went well in the end.
  266. 266.
    >In fact, nothing could spoil this moment.
  267. 267.
    >Eri blows out her candles.
  268. 268.
    >“I wish I was dead,” she mumbles.
  269. 269.
    >Okay, other than her wishing for that.

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