You sit on your couch, turning a piece of paper over and over in your hand. That nurse gave it to you when you woke up at the hospital. Every other time she came in to check on you, there was a doctor, so it didn't seem like the right time to talk to her. With a sigh, you set the slip down on the coffee table beside you and lay back on your couch.

This makes things complicated. Since the two of you didn't talk before you were ejected from the hospital, you aren't really quite sure what to do next. You don't have a phone. Electrical commodities like that are few and far between in Equestria, and if they do exist, it's hardily following some sort of consistent rule. It just drives home how fucking weird this place is.

Blinking your eyes, you roll to your side. You barely even know her. You suppose she's kinda cute. The pink hair is nice. You've always kinda liked pink hair. And she has a good job. So there's that.

But what she was saying about autoerotic asphyxiation sticks in your mind. Who does she think you are? Some sort of outrageous kinkster looking for their next fix?

Maybe it would be better not to call her. Maybe it would be better to just be alone in this world of horses and not interfere with their lives more than you need to. It's not like you can have kids or anything. You shake your head and let out a deep breath at the thought that never fails to stab yourself.

Then, there's three gentle knocks at the door. Good, a distraction. Fucking Fluttershy to the rescue. That was sarcasm, if you didn't catch that.

Rising to your feet, you saunter to your front door and pull it open. Except, there's no Fluttershy on the other side. You take a step outside and look around, then look down to your welcome mat. Sitting there, waiting patiently, as a small grey flip phone. You pause, staring at the familiar Earth device.

"What the actual shit," you mutter to yourself.

What the hell? A cell phone? This is ridiculous. Next thing you know, there's going to be computers and digital projectors. Then you'll be hearing about stupid desk jobs in bigger cities in Equestria. Yeah, that'll be the day.

You pick up the cell phone and turn it over in your hand. Taped to the back is a small charger and cord. Well, look at you. You just got a plot device. Congrats, Anon.

Closing your front door, you move to your kitchen and plug the charger into a free electrical port. Opening the phone, you notice you have one new text message. You open the unread message and see it's sent from the only contact on your phone.

"From: Fluttershy <3"

Well, that's gotta fucking change.

"Hi, Anon! Did you get your phone? Please respond."

Well, you suppose it is a gift. Tapping along the keys, you prepare your own message.

"Yeah. Thanks I guess."

Then you hit send. Closing the phone, you stare at your new possession. Then an idea strikes you. Walking to your couch, you grab the number that Redheart gave you and program it into your phone.

The phone now proudly shows the two contacts: Fluttershy <3 and-

Nope. Wait a second. Opening her contact, you remove that heart. All better.

The phone now proudly shows the two contacts: Fluttershy and Redheart.

You highlight the Nurse's name and sit back down on your couch. Well, now you have a phone. Should you just call her? You don't know what kind of number this is. It could be a house phone. It could be a cell phone, now that you know they are, in fact, a thing that exists. It shouldn't be fake. She gave you the number unsolicited.

You flip the phone closed and place it on top of the paper on your coffee table. This shouldn't be hard. Why is this hard?

Your phone begins to buzz and ring a gentle melody of that infectious song the town sings when they plow snow. Picking up the phone, you see you have one new message from Fluttershy. Opening the message, you are immediately greeted with a zoomed in picture of Fluttershy's Fluttercunt and asshole.

"Is sexting your fetish, Anon?" she asks in the message.

"No. Stop. Or I'm blocking you," you respond before deleting the picture.

Going back to your contact listing, you take a deep breath. Opening Redheart's number, you press 'Call.'

The phone begins to ring as you put it to your ear. Once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?" picks up a familiar voice on the other side of the phone.

"Uhm, Redheart? It's Anon."

"Oh! Hey! I was hoping it was you."

A flutter in your chest renders you speechless.

"Oh. Well. Uh. How's it going?"