>The walk back home feels more like a march.
>That itself is addled by the accumulated aches and pains throughout today’s work.
>All in all, nothing too unusual.
>Thankfully, respite lies ahead at home.
>Once within that sanctuary, you can finally-
>“Rest?” calls out a familiar voice.
>Broken out of your stupor, you spot Connie standing by your front door.
“Hey there, what’s up?”
>Her brow knits, “Well, I’m here to get you.”
>It’s your turn to knit your brow.
“For…?”
>A hint of a twitch is on her face, “Did you forget what today is?”
>Wracking your brain results in shaking your head.
“No, not really. Why, is it important?”
>The second that question leaves your mouth, everything clears up.
>It’s worsened by her gaze narrowing in on you.
>Her visible displeasure is not unfounded.
>That whole interaction happened a bit ago, with it replaying every so often.
>Because today is special, and it has been discussed at length for nearly a month.
>But the combination of work, along with a case of being scattered brain, has kept it off your mind for the past few days.
>Yet here you are now, trudging slowly after Connie.
>“What’s the hold up?” she asks, looking back.
>Although it was on you for forgetting about today, she seems to be forgetting your own troubles.
“Oh I don’t know… Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been on my hooves for nearly /twelve/ hours?”
>A small scrunch crosses her muzzle, to which she slows to match your pace.
>“Ah, right. I didn’t consider that.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
>Was that rude? A bit.
>But, it was the truth, nonetheless.
>Whatever her reason, she tends to forget how much of a literal pain your career is.
>And with today, not only did she forget, but she dumped not one, but TWO full bags of supplies onto you.
>She softly sighs, “All right.” And looks at you with a smile, “I admit that I /may/ be pushing you a little much.”
>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.”
>Good, at least she realizes that.
>“Though despite that, we’ve been talking about this in our meetings, so I want to keep to the schedule discussed.”
>Correction: the schedule /she/ wanted.
>You felt that winging it was easier, if not, better.
>Needless to say, that didn’t sit well when it was brought up.
>That doesn’t matter much now.
>Today is important, after all.
>So, souring it should be avoided at all costs, if possible.

>Drawing yourself up, you spare her a friendly smile.
“Connie, I’m sure everything will be fine. You just need to…”
>You tilt your head from side-to-side.
“...dial it back, that’s all.”
>“I suppose you’re right,” she replies. “Though I do find that to be a bit surprising.”
>You arch a brow.
“What do you mean?”
>“Because I thought you would be just as enthusiastic about today as I am.”
“Again: I’ve been working nearly all day…”
>That twitch from before returns, stronger this time.
>She says nothing, otherwise.
>While you’re no ray of sunshine, she’s different, and not necessarily in a good way.
>Speaking of sunshine, there’s a lot of ponies out today; all friendly, too.
>Most give a little wave, some a warm greeting, and others engage in simple, little chitchat.
>Connie always returns either of the first two in kind.
>As for you, well…
>“Good afternoon, ladies,” greets a graying stallion.
>Unlike Connie, you shoot him a hard glare, which hurries him along without a further word.
>A pang of guilt stirs in your guts.
>Mistakes were made, but can be avoided if the situation presents itself later.
>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.
>You two round the corner, yet stop almost immediately upon doing so.
“Oh come on…”
>A heavy, slightly hushed sigh escapes your companion.
>Almost entirety of the street is covered in produce, trash, and other assorted bits and bobs.
>That’s all sourced from a rather large pileup of carts.
>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.
>“How did this even happen…?” asks Connie breathlessly.
“Dunno, but it did.”
>“This is just great,” she starts. “It’s going to delay everything I planned out, and-”
>You tune her out, seeking for a route.
>That appears in an instant.
>In spite of the aches, and the teetering of emotions, it’s clear what you must do.
>With that, you take off in a full gallop.
>“Rest, where are you going?!” calls out Connie.
>Explaining would take too long.
>There is no need to give her a glance to know that she’s giving chase.
>Through the many yards you two dash, and around ponies in said yards, along with whatever else is in them.
>Fences are leapt over as the impromptu marathon continues.
>Angry shouts, glares, and even literal trash are thrown at you.
>None of that slows your advance, as you dodge, duck, dip, dive, and dodge.

>After getting through the very last yard, you come to an abrupt stop, though because you reached your destination, but-
>“Y-you…” *wheeze* “...you c-could have warned m-me first…” says Connie.
>That, and you’re not fairing any better.
>You can’t muster a response, save for waving her off with a nod.
>Your body trembles, having compounding the effects from work earlier.
>It’s then, without warning, you plop your rear onto the ground, still huffing and puffing all the while.
>Connie suddenly gasps.
>You raise a brow in question, but understand when she scrambles to check the bags you dropped unceremoniously next to you.
>Her eyes widen, “No, no, no!”
>Hindsight is twenty-twenty.
>You peek into a bag, finding the contents to likely be in the same shape as the other.
“Oh.”
>She snaps her head to you.
>A very strong, powerful twitch is in her eye, “It’s crushed, isn’t it?”
>Despite knowing better, you half-shrug and nod.
>“I can’t believe this,” she growls.
>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!”
>Oh here we go…
>Remember: stay calm, be the bigger mare.
>It would be easier with a little cider…
“Stop yelling, please.”
>Her body begins to visible shake as her face turns from pink to red.
>You swiftly boop the tip of her muzzle with a hoof.
“Hold it. Take a deep breath in, then out, okay?”
>She continues to shake, but does nod, and starts to breath as you said.
>She does the whole process again and again, with each exhale appearing to ease her a little.
>Eventually, a small, calm smile forms on her lips.
“Better?”
>She nods.
“’kay, let me see what I can do to fix this.”
>Saying nothing, she lets you have at the bags.
>You fiddle with the contents of both, doing your best to undo the damage.
>That effort amounts to, well…
“Eh, I tried.”
>She looks over each, working her jaw a moment before shaking her head, “It’s fine, I suppose.”
>That went better than expected.
>Knowing how she can be, however, they’ll be lecture about this later.
>You pick up the bags, and follow her to the lonely little house at the edge of the road.
>While she knocks and you two wait, you peer down the road.
>The chaos from before is exactly the same as when you first saw it.
>You shake your head.
>A minute passes in silence.
>Connie knocks once again.
>There is still silence.
“Odd…”
>“Maybe she’s not home today?”
>Shaking your head again, you give her a look.
“Not likely.”
>“Hey, for all we know, she’s out taking a walk through the park, or maybe she’s at the bookstore.”
>You deadpan.
“Seriously?”
>“What? It’s entirely possible.”
>As optimistic as that is, that’s a clear cover for worry.
>Not that you blame her though, because you’re certainly starting to feel it, too.

>You opt to knock, though louder than she did.
>Time passes by, earning the same response as the last two.
>That leaves one action.
>You set down the bags, and turn around.
“Stand back, I’m gonna buck it down.”
>Her eyes go as wide as saucers.
>Before you can go any further, she stomps, “Whoa there, Rest!”
>She whips her head back-and-forth, planting herself between you and the door.
>“Let’s not get too hasty. The last thing we want is to overact.”
>Ironic…
>This isn’t the time for arguing, however.
“What if she’s hurt?”
>Any semblance of calm dissolves immediately from her face.
>In its place, a darker, more colder sight appears, “Then I’d tear apart the world to save her.”
>You adopt a wide grin.
“Now you’re speaking my language.”
>Just as you go to buck, she raises a hoof, “Wait!”
“What is it this time?”
>“At least let me check if it’s locked first.”
>You utter a low groan.
“There is no time for that…”
>“Let me try, anyway.”
>Sighing, you step aside.
>She turns the handle easily, and looks back to you, “See? There was no need for force.”
“True, but it shouldn’t be unlocked.”
>She nods, “Agreed.”
>The two of you hurry inside.
>Most of the living room is dim, lit only by the open door, with few cracks of light coming from around the closed curtains.
>Connie draws said curtains open, though nothing appears out of the ordinary.
>A simple look is shared between you two says what to do next: search.
>You check the basement, while she deals with the first floor.
>It’s dark, damp, cluttered, but otherwise, there’s nothing down there.
>That feeling from the front door is fed by nothingness.
>You return to Connie.
“Anything?”
>“No.”
“Same here.”
>It doesn’t need to be said to know what you’re both feeling.
>A light creak comes from upstairs, drawing you both into looking up, with your ears twitching.
>There’s a moment of silence, then the creak comes again.
>Yet another exchange of a look moves you two into going upstairs.
>That itself is slow, feeling heavier than it should be.
>There’s a few rooms up here: the bedroom, bathroom, and the attic.
>Out of the three, the bedroom has sole attention.
>What feels like a cold chill billows from it.
>That only grows worse when you’re both standing in front of the closed door.
>A hard lump forms in your throat.
>You swallow it down, and glance at Connie, seeing her face likely the same as yours.
>Carefully, you open the door.
>Like the rest of the home, it’s dimly lit.
>Every step is slow, slower than going up, and even heavier somehow.
>Aside from yours and Connie’s breathing, it’s silent.
>Just like the living room, Connie pulls aside the curtains, but that does not make the situation any better.
>The desk is a disorganized mess of papers (crumpled or straight), pencils, pens, and razors.
>The bookshelves have been emptied, with their contents strewn across the floor.
>And the bed has its bedding sprawled out haphazardly.

>This atmosphere, it’s thick, harsh, hard to breath.
>Everything feels frozen in time.
>But that itself ends.
>Because you see it.
>Connie sees it.
>The closet door is closed.
>It’s /never/ been closed before.
>If it was cold before, it’s now freezing.
>A shiver courses throughout your coat as you two approach the closet.
>You’re not sure who did it first, but both yours and her hoof are on the handle.
>A single look is shared, then you both rip the door open.
“ERI!”
>“ERI!”
>“Oh come on… why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”
>She manages to utter a single ‘eep!’ as she’s glomped by you two.
>“Nuuu! Stop it, I did not give you permission to touch me. This is a bad touch.”
>“Don’t you /ever/ dare scare me like that again,” cries out Connie.
>If you could, you’d say something similar.
>She is safe.
>She is all right.
>She still groans in mock agony.
>But despite that, the lingering fear withers away for the time being.
>At last, you’re able to speak freely.
“H-hey, um. Happy birthday, Eri.”
>“That’s right,” starts Connie. “Happy birthday, dear.”
>Eri deeply sighs, then shifts her gaze from you to Connie.
>“It’s just another long, dark year of rotting and suffering; edging me closer and closer to the cold embrace of the grave.”
>She’s still herself.
>It takes some effort, but you two do get her downstairs to the couch.
>Connie retrieves the bags from outside, and pulls out a large box from one.
>It’s revealed to be a cake, which surprisingly, is intact.
>“I don’t deserve this,” mutters Eri.
>“You deserve a lot. Doesn’t she, Rest?”
“Yeah, of course she does.”
>“The only thing I deserve is death,” wails Eri.
>Connie lightly titters while tending to the cake.
>You grab a gift at random from the other bag.
“Here, open this.”
>A brief look of disapproval appears on Connie’s face, which you promptly ignore.
>“I…” Eri starts, shaking her head, “I don’t know how to feel about this.”
“I dunno, maybe happy?”
>Okay, that was a poor choice of words.
>And from the look Connie is giving you, it’s a mutual thought.
>Eri utters a disturbing mix of a laugh and cry, and shakes her head.
>“...as if that would ever happen to me.”
>She’s always been like this, even before you two first met at the hospital years ago.
“Well, go on, and open it, anyway.”
>She tries, but is having a hard time due to the knot.
>That’s Connie’s work; you always make yours so simple that even a foal could open it.
>Eri’s frustration boils over into her biting and snapping the twine with a grunt.
>You can’t help but utter a small giggle, which earns a glare from her.

>Her attention falls back to the box, and she opens it, then pauses, staring at the inside for a moment.
>Her eyes widen as she pulls out the gift, “A poetry book.”
>There’s a very brief, small twitch at the corners of her mouth.
>“And…” she opens to the first page, “you even got the author to sign it, too.”
>Connie beams, “I knew you’d like it.”
>Not wanting to be outdone, you fish out another gift, finding one of yours.
>Eri has a much easier time opening it, and upon doing so, that twitch appears again.
>“A teddy bear.”
>She hugs it close, drawing a little warmth from your chest.
“Do you like it?”
>A stupid question, but you like asking, anyway.
>She nods silently while still hugging it close.
>The last of the candles are set, then lit, and as Eri looks to it, a small twinkle is in her eyes.
>“I, uhm, well… thanks, girls.”
“Anytime.”
>“You’re welcome, dear.”
>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.
>In fact, nothing could spoil this moment.
>Eri blows out her candles.
>“I wish I was dead,” she mumbles.
>Okay, other than her wishing for that.