I sit on the couch of my Boutique, exhausted but invigorated at the thought of a job well done. Toe Tapper proved to be very discerning—some would say picky—when it came to discussing the perfect dress design for Roseluck, and we ended up negotiating with each other for hours. Roseluck should feel lucky that she fell in love with such a considerate stallion. Now, I have in my hoof the notes for a rather complex and . . . rather sexy commission to be completed for Hearts and Hooves Day.

I place it with the other similar orders I received earlier in the week. Hearts and Hooves Day is a rather lucrative holiday for me, not only because dresses are common gift ideas for well-meaning stallions, but also that I've gained a reputation for being Ponyville's resident source for romance advice. I do consider myself quite well-read when it comes to the subject, and I've seen many a stallion (and mare) come to me for help in approaching their beloveds or dealing with special somepony issues. Toe Tapper is far from alone.

My smile disappears as my thoughts turn to my own love life. It's been years since I first put myself "on the market," so to speak, and as much as it embarrasses me, despite my considerable knowledge on romance, I've been alone the whole time. I frown and I let loose a melancholy sigh. Celestia bless the time when I finally find that perfect stallion. I thought that Blueblood and Trenderhoof were both fine specimens at a distance, but upon meeting them, they both turned out to be utter boors. The stallions that have approached me for a date, on the other hoof, have all been rather uninteresting.

Spike is a nice boy, and I know he’s interested in me, but he’s still just a boy. That, and I’ve never quite found dragons to be interesting. I’ve been putting it off for far too long now, but I’ll have to tell him at some point that I’m just not interested.

I sigh again. All I'd like is a stallion who's kind, considerate, empathetic, spirited, and cares for me. Oh, and it's good if they're big and tall and handsome, too. Is that too much to ask?

I shake my head and try to clear my thoughts. Now is not the time to fill my mind with self-loathing and pity. Those emotions will not benefit me or my stress levels, and they will not make my work any better. I do, however, happen to know a very effective stress-managing technique . . . and the perfect pony to do it with.

Mind made up, I decide to put my current work on hold for the time being and go to Fluttershy's for a spot of meditation. Yes, I suppose that I could do it myself, but it's always more enjoyable with her. I don my saddlebags, exit my home, lock the door, and start on the brief walk to Fluttershy's cottage.

Along the way, I muse at how mine and Fluttershy's lives have changed over our months of meditating together. When I first took it up, I found that I quite liked it and came back on occasion to do it again. It also helps that she said to me that she enjoyed the company and that I was free to come over whenever I liked. These recent months have had me coming over at least once a week—sometimes more—not necessarily because I'm stressed, but because I enjoy the company, too.

Over that time, we've become even closer as friends. I called her my best friend before, but now, I don't even know if there's a term for how close we've gotten. We talk all the time and share everything together, whether it be worries, thoughts, or secrets.

That reminds me of something. I stop for a moment, musing about today’s date: yes, today is, indeed, the one year anniversary since we started meditating together. I then doff my saddlebags and dig around in them to see if my gift is still there. It is. It has been sitting in my bag for months, waiting for the perfect moment; now, I have a reason to give it to Fluttershy. I put on my saddlebags again and continue walking.

Once Fluttershy's cottage comes into view, I see Fluttershy herself outside, eyes closed, an easy smile on her face. At one point, that was an unexpected sight for me, but now, it has become commonplace. When I come over, Fluttershy is often sitting just like this, waiting for me to join her.

I close my eyes and light my horn, a sly smile on my face. Perhaps I can surprise her just this once. I soften my hoof-falls with a spell and carefully sneak my way over to her. I walk up to the bank, over the bridge, and down the dirt road to Fluttershy, remaining as silent as I can. All the while, I look at Fluttershy's ears. Every time they swivel to track me, I stop and wait. Only when she turns her attention away from me do I start moving again.

Eventually, after many minutes of creeping, I make it up to Fluttershy's face. I don't think she's noticed me yet. Time to change that, I think. Slowly, carefully, I make my way to Fluttershy's back. Once there, I rear up on my hind hooves, preparing to put both of my forehooves on Fluttershy's shoulders at the same time and give her a playful scare.

"Uuwhaaah!"

A squeal escapes my mouth when Fluttershy suddenly snaps her wings open, knocking me off-balance. I stagger backwards and, unable to keep my footing, fall onto my back with a thump. Seconds later, I see Fluttershy hovering over me, a playful smile of her own on her face. She reaches out a hoof to me.

I take it, and she helps me back to my hooves. Once there, she says, "Are you alright, Rarity?"

I brush myself off with magic before answering. "Yes, I'm fine, Fluttershy." I make a mock-pout at her. "Damn, I thought I had you this time!"

Fluttershy giggles daintily, her laughs sounding like the musical chimes of a bell choir. "You were close, Rarity, but not enough. I sensed what felt like a hole of silence getting closer to me. That's very artificial, so I thought that it was you casting a silence spell. And every time I turned my ears towards you, you stopped. That's exactly what many animals do when they hunt, and it's very easy for me to notice, Rarity."

"Looks like I still have a lot to learn," I say. I sigh, and shake my head with a smile on my face. "I'll catch you one of these days, Fluttershy!"

Fluttershy giggles again. "Maybe, but that day isn't today." Fluttershy then sits back down in her place, closes her eyes, and gestures next to her, inviting me to meditate next to her.

I walk next to her, doff my saddlebags, and sit down on the slab of polished slate on the ground. Once we started meditating together more often, Fluttershy commissioned a contractor to lay a large piece of slate on the ground to mark our favorite location and make our sessions more comfortable. It was very considerate of her; now, I always have a clean place to sit.

I close my eyes and open my ears, listening to the sounds of the stream, of the wind, of the distant animals, even the very quiet ones of Fluttershy herself. The average pony might call our conditions quiet, even boring, but Fluttershy and I are not average ponies anymore: where a normal pony hears nothing of note, we hear a symphony of sounds. And each one of those sounds tells a story.

It's the listening to these stories that constitutes our meditation. There are so many sounds and stories to be had that one could probably spend the rest of eternity rooted to one spot and never run out of things to hear. Fluttershy and I have once spent an entire day doing nothing but meditating. I will never forget the sound our friends made that day as they spied on us, whispering that we had crossed our tenth hour.

After a few minutes, I feel something large and warm come onto my back. It lowers, and I can feel that it's Fluttershy's wing. I sigh in contentment and snuggle into it. She started embracing me like this during the winter months when the weather grew cold, but we still meditated for hours on end. Now, even when it's more temperate, she continues to wrap me in her wing. I can't say that I don't enjoy it, though. Her wing is a downy blanket of warmth that I would gladly welcome on my back any day, any weather.

Comfortably sheltered in Fluttershy's wing, I let my mind clear of worries and fill with sounds. I hear a murder of crows far above that are all loosing their cries at the same time, creating a confusing mix of calls. I hear a family of squirrels on the ground. They chitter to each other for a few seconds before all splitting up, each doing a different task.

I hear that the breeze today is very light; there's not enough wind to blow bushes or Fluttershy's air vane. There's only enough to gently rustle the leaves on the trees and the grasses on the ground. I can't hear any inclement weather around me, either: no rumbles of thunder, no patter of rain. The weather is just this good for several miles around, at least.

Being so close to Fluttershy, I can hear her sounds as well. Her breaths are light and slow, and they whistle quietly as they enter and exit her nostrils. Her heartbeat is strong and consistent, each "lub-dub" sending a surge of blood throughout her body and thereby giving it life. Her stomach shifts once every few minutes, churning its contents and aiding the digestion of Fluttershy's lunch.

After several hours of this listening, I open my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light. The sun is lower in the sky. It isn't sunset quite yet, but it will be soon. I tap Fluttershy gently on the side, indicating that I'm finished listening for today. Fluttershy remains motionless, not acknowledging me, but I'm not worried; she'll come inside when she's ready. I pick up my saddlebags and head inside the cottage.

Sure enough, after I had started to prepare us both tea in Fluttershy’s kitchen, I hear the front door swing open as she enters her home. I fill her pot with tea and take it to tea table. We both sit down at it, and I fill our respective cups. Only when we both have taken several sips does Fluttershy start to speak.

"So, what have we heard today?" she asks.

"Well, there was that flock of crows that hovered above us for some time," I respond. "I can tell that it was a huge flock, judging by how many calls I heard sounding at once: probably five hundred plus. Though, for the life of me, I have no idea what they were saying."

Fluttershy took a sip of tea before responding. "I'll be honest, I didn't understand everything either. Though, from what I could get, I think the flock was part of a migratory group of crows, returning to their native home. They'll be staying in Ponyville for a while before continuing their journey north."

I take a sip of tea myself. When I lower my teacup, I smile at Fluttershy. "I can only assume that they're staying because they've heard word that the best animal caretaker in Equestria lives here."

"Oh! Oh my." Fluttershy raises her teacup to try and hide her blush. She's simply adorable.

We talk about what we heard for a long while. Fluttershy is always a veritable fountain of observations; she loves nature to the point that she can never finish talking about everything she hears in one sitting. Eventually, however, we wander to other topics. It's not like our normal spa gossip, however; what we talk about in Fluttershy's home is much more personal and sincere.

"So," Fluttershy asks, "did you come today just because you wanted to, or did you need to blow off some stress?"

My smile droops just a little. "The latter," I answer. "There is a secret I have that’s been bothering me. Can I be honest with you, Fluttershy?"

Fluttershy shifts closer to me and puts that comforting wing of hers over my back. "Of course, Rarity. Tell me."

"Okay," I begin, leaning into Fluttershy's wing. "Given that Heart's and Hooves Day is drawing near, many ponies have started coming to me for romance advice. I can't help but feel a little . . . frustrated that I'm still alone. I'm still waiting for that perfect stallion while ponies around me are cavorting with their lovers." I turn my head to look at Fluttershy. "Despite everything I know of romance, I haven't found it yet."

Fluttershy turns to me and we fall into a hug, my head resting on Fluttershy's shoulder. "I'm sure that you'll find that special somepony soon," Fluttershy responds. "You're too beautiful and lovely not to find love, Rarity." She strokes my back softly and plays with my mane. "You're smart and talented and . . . so gorgeous. Your confident voice, your smell after a shower, your fearless blue eyes . . . You're perfect, Rarity. You just haven't found someone as perfect as you yet."

I blush at the compliments. Fluttershy always knows just what to say to make me feel—what was that?

So faint that I just barely hear it, I catch Fluttershy put her teeth together and swipe them against each other. It's incredibly subtle, but Fluttershy is . . . nervous?

"Are you okay, Rarity?" Fluttershy asks, separating from the hug. "You're quiet."

I sigh and shake my head, putting aside the thought for now. "I'm okay. Thank you, Fluttershy. Perhaps someday, I will find 'the one.'"

"You will, Rarity, I'm sure."

Fluttershy gets closer to me, and I snuggle into her wing in response. I try to shake off my previous worries. There's no reason for Fluttershy to be nervous around me; surely, I'm just hearing things.