You sit at your desk, the page in front of you, pencil in hand. With a sigh, you begin to trace each word a single letter at a time. Memories of a forgotten day. Dreams of a forgotten world. A world of dreams that you only visit in the evenings, with closed eyes and open mind.

She had long, black hair, a gentle smile, a love of books. The grass was soft, the sun was shining brightly. There was a breeze that made her hair gently sway. She said her eyes were brown, but you could have sworn they had an amber color to them, reminiscent of resin gems that held ancient relics of a past long forgotten. A past that you can't reach, no matter how hard you cling to it. A world you cannot rejoin. You remember the softness of the blankets, the wine, her laugh, her skin. The gentle heat of her breath as you held her in your arms.

You sigh, setting the pencil aside.

What's the point? Earth is miles away. Everything in your dreams is just a dream. She has no name, no voice. Just an imaginary construction, a flowing white dress, and a gentle touch. It was a way your mind tries to cope with the loneliness in Equestria, you are almost sure of it. But, when you wake up, you can't help but wish and stay in that dream, to go back to the place of the mysterious woman.

Instead, this world has nothing to offer you. No future partner. No family. Only a handful of creature comforts, and a few measly bits for your day-to-day troubles.

Is this all there is? Is this all there is to your life? Scooting away from the desk, your dream, you pace the floor in a melancholy.

What is left? What is left for you?

There's a knock at the door. You know who it is instantly. Who else could it be? Fluttershy.

Moving to the door, you place your hand on the doorknob, but stop. You rest your forehead against the door, and close your eyes. A swell of emotion lifts in your chest. You know, today might just be a good day to just... talk to her. Fluttershy probably isn't that bad of a pony once she gets her head out of the gutter. Everypony else seems to like her, at least.

Yeah. That's it. Today, you're gonna talk to her. Maybe make a fresh start.

You open the door wide, smiling to yourself.

"Hey, Fluttershy, What's-"

You freeze, seeing a flying horse ass directly in front of your eyes. Then, without warning, Fluttershy lets loose a large expulsion of gas directly in your face. The putrid smell pushes through your nostrils, down your throat, into your taste buds, into your stomach. You feel the warmth on your skin. You see the puckering of her horse anus. You hear the rip through the air. This mare, in less than 3 seconds, has disgusted you on all five of your senses. You back away, choking, your hands on your throat. The bile rises in your stomach. The pony turns in air, smiling to you.

"Is farting your fetish, Anon?" she says happily.

You fall to your knees, coughing, trying to get air, but you can taste the fecal pungency on your tongue. The smell of rotten eggs pushes through your house as you feel the acid in your stomach push to the surface. The boiling sensation pushes forward and boils over into the real world. Vomit splatters onto the floor. Fluttershy stares at you in silence, as you stare at the soiled floor of your home.

"S-should I take your silence as a yes?" she asks innocently.

"Get the FUCK out!" you scream at her.

"Meep!" she squeeks loudly, then flies off your front porch, leaving you alone.

Tears form in your eyes as you try to rise back to your feet. You look back to the piece of paper sitting on your desk. You look down to the puddle in front of you. You look down within yourself, wondering who you really are.

Wondering if this is really all there is.

With a sigh, you move into your kitchen, taking a roll of paper towels from above the toaster. You pause, staring at the device, then move back to clean up your mess.

Author's Notes:

... new arc? Maybe.