Pull

The wait was not long at all – the queue dwindled with each purchase – and by the time she reached the counter, the last customer of the hour had left with their daily hoard. There wouldn’t be another customer coming. Lily was quite certain of that.

Even if a customer did arrive to break the serentiy of the shop, all Lily would have to do was get in line behind them. Lily was never one to push toward the front of anything when the back would do.

It was sometimes nice in the back.

She’d heard something about that on the news once – some sort of tensions about the fairness of being forced to sit at the back of a trolley or something like that.

She would have gladly taken the back seat of the trolley, had she been given the choice.

It was cozy in the back. Warm. Comforting. You could spread out a little, because the seats were wider, and if you sat right in the middle, you had some room to stretch out.

No one would bother you walking by, and you would get to look and smile at every new pony boarding the vehicle.

No, she wasn’t trying to downgrade equality or fairness or the rights of all living ponies, no. Equality was very important in all situations. She was merely standing up for the rights of the back seat itself, which had since gotten quite a bad reputation indeed, and if she didn’t stand up for their rights, who would?

Only she could, because she was the only one quiet enough to listen.

“Do you know something?” Lily asked the clerk who was staffing the counter.

Quickly now.

Observations.

Earth persuasion. Blue coat. White mane. Straight. Dark eyes. Cutie mark? Sales till. Name? Tally. Says so on the name tag.

Done.

“What?” Tally asked.

“You know, the back seat of the trolley really isn’t that bad,” Lily said gently, giving him a smile. “It has a bad reputation.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” He smiled back. “Ah... would you like to make a purchase?”

There were many items for purchase at the store, for it was the kind of store that sold goods rather than services. This was the type of store that sold a rather wide variety of things and not one of those types of stores that sold a wide variety of things of the one sort.

There was a subtle, yet important, difference between them.

The former – stores that sold a wide variety of things – tended to be like the one she stood in right now, in which the exact nature of products sold was fairly non-specific. This was, perhaps, because it was a general store. The items one needed for day-to-day operations or common convenience could be found here, but you would be sorely disappointed if you had to find something that required more than two adjectives to describe it, because more than two adjectives made any object specific, and that was The Rule.

The latter – stores that sold a wide variety of things of the one sort – tended to be like the store from which she bought most of her orange-coloured paraphernalias. It was aptly named the orange-coloured store, and did not exist. If she had the choice, she would certainly prefer to buy an orange-coloured item from the orange-coloured store rather than make a snap purchase as she passed an orange-coloured item by at the markets or wherever, and she most certainly could take the back seat of the cart to get there.

“Would you care to make a purchase, miss?” Tally asked again, having waited patiently for the three minutes that Lily took to complete her thoughts, the smile on his face as courteous as it was professional.

“Oh, no,” Lily replied, shaking her head, her voice like luxury. “I would very much like to use your washrooms, please.”

“Of course, miss,” Tally stated with cheerful indulgence. “Right over there.”

He pointed toward a door to the back. It was a door that had a sign on it. The sign read ‘Washrooms’. It had another sign under it that read ‘Please Wash Hooves’.

Lily needed to be reminded of it. She might forget to, otherwise. It was important to be reminded of the little things, because it is always the little things that everyone takes for granted. In fact, most of the ponies who used that washroom saw that sign and, not even more than a few moments after doing so, would completely forget to wash their hooves and stroll out with a slightly guilty look upon their faces.

Everyone forgets the little things.

But not Lily. She had signs to remind her. And if the signs didn’t exist, she would simply remember to pretend there was one. It was much simpler to remember just that one thing than everything else in the whole universe.

And in that way she could remember everything there ever was.

Unless she forgot, which happened every so often for various reasons.

Lily returned to the counter. There were still no other customers.

“Yes, miss?” Tally asked, regarding her re-arrival with a nod and a perky, yet welcoming, grin.

“Oh, I’m ever so sorry. I was actually looking for the other washroom. You know. The one that sold things from the little box on the wall.”

“Oh, yes, of course, of course!” Tally smacked a hoof against the other in sudden realization. “I should have known! I really should have. I did peg you as one of those.”

“One of those?”

“Yes. One of those.”

“Oh! Yes. I am,” Reaffirmed Lily, for she was, in fact, one of those. “The washroom, though...?”

“Right next to the other one!” Tally gestured toward a door that was right next to the one he had indicated earlier.

This door had a sign on it that read ‘Washrooms’. Underneath it was another sign which had a little drawing of a tomato plant on it. Under that was another sign that reminded everypony to wash their hooves.

This was the right one.

Lily pushed through the door, pressing forward into the deepest bastions of The Store.

She rushed up to the box on the wall – a little machine thing with three choices of product and a slot for inserting one’s coin. She inserted one coin. And waited.

The washroom had a lovely motif that could only be described as ‘sterile’. Square, white tiles bound the floor together, and smaller versions of them ran up and down the walls like an endless conga line of square, white mice which danced so slowly that they almost looked like they were standing still in uniform rows.

The sinks were white and were laid into white counters. Cubical cubicles wedged themselves against the wall, all dressed in their best light grey.

Lily always wondered why the toilet stalls had gaps along the top and the bottom. They allowed other ponies to peek in if they were feeling a bit cheeky or if, perhaps, they happened to be incredibly lost.

She reckoned that maybe some ponies would prefer facilities that lacked such a wonderful opportunity to get to play spot-the-pony. Though this also meant having to sit in a hot box of stenches and vaguely unidentifiable growths.

There were many reasons to not have the gaps.

But gaps had their place in society. Gaps were surely important – too important even for a closed-off toilet stall in which one could do a zen-like pony poo in total sensory deprivation.

For without gaps there would be no bridges. Without gaps there would be nothing to mind at the train station. Without gaps there would be much less for dentists to do. And all these were wonderful and beautiful things.

Tally stuck his head around the corner of the door frame, poking into the washroom as he watched Lily stand there, peering at the box on the wall.

“Do you require some assistance, miss?” he asked, patiently, kindly.

Lily turned back – just enough to look over her shoulder and make sure that Tally saw her understanding smile.

“I don’t think so.” She motioned to the machine. “I’m just waiting.”

“Oh… for?”

“For everything to come together.”

“Oh. Well, let me know if you need anything! We’re always here to help at The Store.”

“Is the staff here always this kind?” Lily asked, tilting her head.

“Oh, yes indeed, miss!” Tally nodded with reaffirmation. “We pride ourselves in our work. Even if it’s just about visiting the facilities, we want to make sure that your stay here with us is as comfortable as possible!”

Lily agreed. This was most definitely the right way to go about things.

“But if I may be so bold...” Tally asked, holding up a hoof.

Lily thought about it for a while. She needed to consider this carefully.

“Yes,” she responded, finally. “Yes, I do believe you may.”

“Ah, very good, miss!” Tally bubbled, overjoyed at his chance to provide even more assistance. “You need to pull.”

Lily looked back toward the machine. She had inserted her one bit. She had made a choice. The machine had said, in small writing, to make a choice. And she had. She knew exactly which one she wanted. It was the one on the left, with the little polka dots.

But, as was just pointed out, she needed to reaffirm her choice to the machine by pulling a little lever that was under each picture. It was a lever that allowed her to communicate with the machine a single step further than mere contemplation.

She wondered why contemplation was not enough.

“No,” Lily said, returning her attention to the store clerk. “I will wait. It is no problem.”

“If miss so desires.” Tally said. “But it is my solemn duty to suggest that you use the tiny little levers, miss. Look, they have little dimples in them in the shape of a hoof, for a better grip.”

“Oh! Yes. Why, they do! They do indeed!” Lily exclaimed, shocked at the revelation. “Oh, but... I will wait. I quite like it here. I am just enjoying the ambiance. It is so rare do I get to take the time out and just immerse myself in such a peaceful, serene atmosphere. I’m in the forest all the time, and all that expanse and rolling trees get quite monotonous indeed. It’s refreshing to get away, and I would very much like to enjoy myself while I have the opportunity.”

“As you say,” Tally allowed. “But... ah! Yes. Of course. One moment, miss. I’ve just realised something.”

The youngish stallion pulled away from the door all of a sudden, leaving on his epiphany. Epiphanies were always a good time to leave. One must never leave a scene abruptly before reaching an epiphany; it would be rather strange and unexplainable, and cause everypony to scratch their heads at the sudden departure. But no. If one had an epiphany, then one had a reason to go.

This is why Lily was not offended when Tally had made his dire escape.

She turned back to the machine, looking at the three options.

There was one item with the lovely pink stripes that ran up and down the white cotton shaft, making it look like a grapefruit popsicle. It, no doubt, would be chosen by the sporty and peppy types, the kind of pony that led active lifestyles and wore their manes up in folds for the explicit purpose of being able to let it down at appropriate moments.

There was another one that had the purple stars on it. Tiny, little purple stars. They were the denizens of the night showing up on the pale, white day. It made Lily’s brain hurt to look at it, a little, but she supposed that must have been the point. Why would they have decided to make a design of stars upon a background that was clearly day? Stars weren’t to be seen during the day – that was the nature of things – but yet, this design proved to be a calming and pleasant one to the eyes and the mind.

Thusly, this design was meant to cause cognitive dissonance, and that was the beauty of it. It subtly hid a deep psychological evil in the mask of an innocent and not-too-completely-thought-out design.

The final one was the one with the orange-flavoured polka dots on it. This was, undoubtedly, the one that she chose, because even Lily had to have regularity in some things. It would have been, by far, the most disquieting thing if she had chosen one of the other designs, especially when she had established to herself since she came to this place a long time ago that she would like the colour orange to be one of her many obsessions.

It was a conscious choice to be so, and she would stick to it.

So, as the machine had said, she made her choice. And she was waiting for it to drop.

Tally returned.

He pushed the stool to Lily.

“Here, miss...” he muttered, expression guilty at the complete and total affront that he was committing. “Please forgive me for the intrusion into your privacy, but I did think that you might want something to sit on. Look. It has a cushion.”

It had a cushion.

“Why, thank you!” Lily cried, running a gentle hoof over the finely polished wood. It was of expert craftswork. “And... what about you?”

“Me, miss?”

“Why yes, of course! Won’t you join me?”

“Ah, no miss. I would never be so forward as to assume that...”

“Don’t be silly. Sit.”

“But I have to tend to the customers, miss.”

“There won’t be another customer until I am done, Tally. You know that.”

“O-oh, of course. You are right...”

“Look,” Lily said, sliding the stool over. “I brought you a stool to sit on.”

Tally’s eyes welled up slightly, although not quite enough to spill over. A low whimper escaped his throat as his heart softened at the generous offer; it was the nicest thing that anypony had ever done for him in all his years working there at The Store. But he struggled to regain composure, and managed to eventually achieve it.

Lily watched him, nodding a little to herself, and regarded his outpouring of feelings with a stoic expression. His was a true emotion. A stark emotion. It was the impact of the heart.

“T-thank you, miss,” Tally said, coughing slightly to clear his tightened throat, “but I shall sit on the floor. It is the only place for a pony such as I.”

“Then we both shall sit on the floor,” Lily declared, lowering herself onto the stainless, white tiles.

Tally followed suit.

They both sat there, under the machine, waiting – both watching the walls as their tiles did their dance, both enjoying the ambiance of a semi-lit room devoid of colour.

“Let us talk,” Lily stated.

“What shall we talk about, miss?” Tally said, to the wall across from where he was sitting. It was alright. His voice would echo off the wall and reach Lily eventually.

“My sister,” Lily replied.

“Ah, your sister?”

“Yes. Her name is Roseluck. But she is neither a rose, nor lucky. She is an abomination.”

“I think I do see,” Tally replied, nodding. “It makes perfect sense.”

“I love her dearly.”

“As you should.”

“She is no longer with us, though.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, she is somewhere else, now. Somewhere far away.”

“Oh. I see.”

Lily nodded.

“I am sorry.” Tally said.

“For what?”

“For your lost Sister.”

“Oh, she’s not lost. She’s just not here.” Lily smiled, turning over to look at Tally for just a moment.

He was staring straight on, with a perfectly blank expression, legs wrapped around legs as he huddled against the wall. He looked like a child that way – a child defending himself against the world in a cocoon of his own thoughts.

“She will be back, someday, maybe. Can’t be sure when.” Lily continued, looking at the ceiling. She would want to talk to that next. “It’s hard to tell with Roseluck. But rest assured, she most definitely knows where she is. So... she is not lost. We all know where we may go if we wished to join her. It’s just about the journey.”

“Do you think the journey is worth it?”

“It depends on how much the ticket is.”

“Of course, miss. You’ll have to save up for that, I reckon. Quite the pretty bit, I dare say!”

“Perhaps it will cost all the money in the world,” mused Lily.

The minute flew by on the back of that statement, and only when the last echoes of it had left the room did Tally dare to speak up again.

“You mentioned that you were waiting, miss?” he asked.

“Yes, Tally. We are wating.”

“May I ask... what for, miss?”

“As I said, Tally. For everything to come together.”

“In what way, miss?”

“Well.” Lily thought about it. “You will have a customer soon. As I said, he – or she – will come when I am finished here. And the machine has yet to yield, accept my coin, and spit out my choice.”

“Did you not pull the lever, miss?”

“No.”

“Very well, miss.”

“What do you call those things, anyway?”

“What things, miss?”

“Those things.” Lily pointed upward, toward the machine, toward the slot at the bottom of the machine where the products ended up after purchase. Normally, in the larger vending machines, or the smaller ones that spat out candy, they had a flap over. This one didn’t.

“The little... compartment, miss?”

“Yes. Does it have a name?”

“Not that I know of, miss.”

“Well, that’s silly. Everything has a name. Everything must. That’s how things work.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“So what is the little slot called?”

“I... I suppose you could just call it a little slot, then, couldn’t you?”

Lily nodded. She nodded with a furious agreement. She nodded with full absorption of the idea.

“Yes! Why... why yes. Yes, it is a little slot. Why, Tally, you have talents beyond your namesake. And you are ever so kind.”

“T-thank you, miss,” he said softly, looking down at the floor.

She turned to the stool next to her.

“You know,” Lily said, to the stool, but also to Tally. “He is very grateful as well.”

“Who is?”

“Gaspard here,” Lily motioned to the chair. “He likes that you put a cushion on him. He finds it very comfortable indeed.”

“Oh. Well. I do try my best.” Tally blushed, playing with his hooves. “I mean, I always liked that stool. We’ve been together for...”

“... one and half years,” Lily finished. “Yes.”

“Oh, how did you know?”

“Gaspard told me, of course!”

“Oh, of course,” Tally agreed, leaning forward slightly so that he could see the stool. “So you do that... then?”

“Hmm?”

“You talk... talk to stools?”

“No, of course not. Don’t be silly. Nopony can talk to inanimate objects.” Lily chuckled, holding a hoof up to her face to be a bit more polite about it.

“Oh. Of course.”

“Take good care of Gaspard, Mister Tally,” Lily said, getting to her legs, giving her back a little stretch.

“Why do you say that with such an air of finality, miss?” Tally asked, looking up at her. He had not moved from his position. He had not wanted to.

“Because everything is coming together.”

“Well. I ought to... I must thank you, then.” Tally scrambled to his hooves as well, dusting himself off and getting himself presentable once again for the lands outside the washroom. “It has been nothing short of a pleasure. I do... I do hope you will come back soon.”

“I might,” Lily responded, nudging the stool over to Tally.

Tally grabbed it, deftly placing it onto his back, and carried it out, only lingering at the door for one final moment so that he could give Lily a forlorn look.

The washroom echoed once again with nothingness.

A doorbell outside tinkled.

A hygiene product dropped into the little slot of the machine.

Lily smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~And Lily Continues To Wait---->

Haiku #24.58

Memory – failing

Hooves – clammy and unpleasant

Forgot to wash them