Dollhouses


                                            >It's another beautiful rainy day in Manehattan.

                                            >The city streets, once alive with the hustle and bustle of busy ponies, lie mostly empty as the falling rainwater drenches everything it touches.

                                            >No sane pony would be out and about in this deplorable weather. (Un)fortunately, you are not a sane pony.

                                            >You are Tack, a short-tempered earth pony stallion that somehow managed to land a job as a cobbler's apprentice.

                                            >Celestia only knows where he gets his limitless supply of patience to put up with your shenangians.

                                            >Life ain't exactly easy in this neck of the woods, but you manage to keep your head above water.

                                            >*SPLASH*

                                            >Metaphorically speaking that is. Last time you checked, pneumonia isn't your special talent.

                                            >You quickly look up and down the street for some form of shelter.

                                            >Everything is closed and there are no awnings, umbrellas, or carriage stops to hide beneath.

                                            >*CRRRRRREEEEEEAAAAAAK*

                                            >Your ear catches the sound of a door opening somewhere over yonder.

                                            >The rain continues its relentless assault as your hooves gallop towards the opening door as fast as they can.

                                            >Soon a strange little shop rapidly comes into view, the only one that shows signs of life on this block.

                                            >In the distance you can vaguely make out the shape of a mare emerging from the shop. She quickly trots over to the curb and drops a bag of garbage.

                                            >The pony stops dead in her tracks upon spotting you in the darkness.

                                            "Hello there! Nice weather we're having huh?"

                                            >You can practically FEEL the metaphorical spaghetti gushing from your nonexistent pockets.

                                            >Socializing was never your strong suit, otherwise you'd have a VERY different cutie mark.

                                            >The mare physically cringes at your corny interaction and turns to make a beeline for the safety of her shop.

                                            "W-Wait miss! Please! I have nowhere else to go!"

                                            >She turns to stare at your miserable form standing in the rain. You whimper with a trembling lip and beg her with desperate eyes.

                                            >Okay so you might be stretching the truth about having nowhere to go, but your home was five blocks over where the flood waters were rising to alarming levels.

                                            >After a bit of internal thought, the mare stands to the side and motions towards the open doorway.

                                            >"Fine, but you'd better-"

                                            >You speed past her and head for the fireplace, its glowing warmth drawing you in like a moth to an ember.

                                            >"-hurry..."

                                            >You stretch out and lay in front of the fire like a dog after a long day of chasing its tail.

                                            >"You're welcome." The mare chuckles from behind and throws a blanket on top of you.

                                            "Oh yeah, thanks Miss-?"

                                            >"Patches. Nice to meet you stranger." The curious mare quickly closes the front door and locks up for the night.

                                            >You watch her trot into the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove.

                                            "I'm no stranger; I'm Tack." You quickly correct her.

                                            >"Tack hmmm? That's a nice name."

                                            >In the blink of an eye she's back in the living room to serve the tea.

                                            >You instinctively perform a quick double take to make sure your eyes are still working properly.

                                            >That mare can move fast!