‘All this—nonsense is just remnants of that boring little Rara I met back in Manehattan! I made you—! What can you even do without me? Good luck, Countess Coloratura! Good luck’

‘Svengallop's right! This is gonna be a disaster! I'm gonna be terrible! Because Svengallop was in charge of everything! —Without Svengallop, I have nothing!’

"What an ugly mess you are," she told her reflection. “Svengallop was right, you are useless without him.” The wreck of a mare in the bathroom mirror scoffed back at her. Was that a mare? Surely no mare could look this terrible. She looked like that lost, terrified creature that Svengallop had found once upon a time. He had made a mare of her, fashioned her, cultivated her beauty. Without him, what was she?

She gave a soft hiccup. She couldn’t make her mane look right, no matter what she did. It looked like she had let it down in a hurricane. It had been ages since she last gazed at the face beneath the usual mask of make-up. She dabbed her tears before blowing her nose on the same diner napkin. ‘This must be what Cinder Reiner felt like after the clock struck midnight,’ she thought morosely.

It had been a disaster. The media had leapt on her like vultures the moment everypony heard that Svengallop had left. While her concert at Ponyville had been well-received by locals, the lack of Svengallop's usual dazzling veneer in her performance had quickly taken the spotlight throughout the rest of Equestria. She had had to face the sharks at the damage-control press conference in Canterlot without Svengallop, her usual costumes, Svengallop, her make-up crew, Svengallop, even her personality coaching and Svengallop. Needless to say, it was less control, more damage.

She frowned at her pocket watch. It was twenty five minutes past midnight. She had hidden away in that donut shop’s bathroom for over three hours. She was just wondering why the owner hadn't kicked her out when the stallion himself strolled in through the bathroom door, levitating two cans of canned cocoa.

"This is the filly's room!" Coloratura gasped, almost leaping out of her fur.

The cookie-brown unicorn chuckled goodnaturedly, pointing at the sign on the open door as he levitated a can of cocoa over to the counter behind her. Coloratura gave a little squeak as she noticed the stallion sign on the bathroom door. Oh no, had she been busted?!

The stallion didn't seem bothered, smiling all the while as he pulled on a worn denim jacket. “Stepping outside for a smoke. Gonna leave the front door open though," he said, taking a sip out of his own can of cocoa as he left her alone.

Coloratura watched the donut shop proprietor step out. 'Canned cocoa? In a donut shop?' She frowned. It was like finding frozen pizzas at a Neighpolitan restaurant. She nosed it curiously. It was surprisingly warm, suggesting somepony had thoughtfully taken the time to warm it up.

Then she realized why he had given her a sealed can of cocoa instead of a freshly-made cup. Having been guest and host to many, many after-parties, she knew full-well the dangers of spiked drinks. A sealed can was a surprisingly thoughtful gesture of faith. And considering how stricken and vulnerable she was, she would have done the foalish thing and drunk anything she was given.

She took a sip. It was the sweetest, warmest cocoa she had ever had.

Tick...tock….tick...tock…

She stared blankly at the clock as it struck 4 am. It was all that filled the deathly silence of the hotel room. Sleep felt as far away as Ponyville. She sat up with a little sigh, slipping out of her duvet and onto the carpeted floor. The windows didn’t offer much light. The Canterlot sky outside was still entirely Luna’s for a while longer. She would have to rely on the hotel’s oil lamp provided for non-unicorn guests.

Deciding sleep was a lost cause, she slipped her bathrobe over her babydoll and languidly trotted over to the pile of luggage in a corner. It was a complete panic-themed mess, a result of their emergency pack-and-move to Canterlot. She wasn’t even sure what was in the abused baggagery, let alone whether or not she had as much as a manebrush.

There was only one way to find out.

She reluctantly began pulling suitcases and bags out of the mess, opening them up one by one. Coloratura was, at the very least, a neat pony. She pulled the items out one by one, sorting them into two piles: One business, one personal. The business pile grew quickly, filling with costumes, wigs, mane-extensions, glitter, all the things that belonged to Svengallop’s Countess Coloratura.

The sky had begun to turn the telltale hues of Celestia. The first soft rays of dawn crept across the carpet to find the business pile taking over a generous portion of the floor. The sequined dresses, glittering saddles and flashy accessories gleamed dully in the pale light. The personal section, however, remained painfully empty.

Coloratura was moving robotically at this point, sifting everything straight into the business pile. She finally paused as her hoof came to rest on something different. It was an envelope sealed with wax shaped in the likeness of a clocktower. She bit her lip as she unsealed it.

A gold badge emblazoned with the same clocktower insignia dropped out of the letter onto the floor. She had a bad feeling she knew who the letter was from.

My Most Wonderful Student and Friend, Coloratura,

It has been a while since I last had a Mareship report from you or even heard from you, even longer since I last saw you. I believe it was at the Clocktower Society ball over a year ago. That night remains a fond memory for me. I would love to reminisce, but we can save that for when we meet next, preferably over cold strawberry milk in a spa somewhere. I already miss you all too much. I hope you're well. Things remain as hectic as ever in the Crystal Empire. I am only beginning to understand the stresses of constantly being in the public spotlight like yourself.

I had a very pleasant meeting with Caramel and Lily White over tea the other day. They tell me that Clocktower Genderwise is hoping to begin compiling your Mareship reports into a Mareship textbook. Genderwise is very excited about this project and are keen to speak to you soon. I myself would be very happy to see the fruits of your labours made more easily available to our younger pupils at Genderwise.

Speaking of Clocktower Society, I have heard from administration that you and your Master have yet to renew your membership for this year. Rest assured I have smoothed things over with the administrators. I even managed to get you a new Clocktower Society badge (I hope it survived the post). If nothing else, please at least carry the badge with you. I would feel more assured if my dearest friend carried the magical protection of the badge with her at the very least.

I look forwards to your next letter, no matter how short or brief. I am also constantly hopeful of a visit, either you to me or me to you. Let me know and I would clear an entire day or two just for the two of us, my student and friend.

Your friend,
Cadence

PS: I've attached another Clocktower Society membership form. Feel free to fill it in and return it when you have a moment. And remember, if nothing else, please do carry the badge.

Coloratura couldn't read the rest of the postscript. A tear drop had smudged the ink and soaked the parchment. She gave a soft hiccup as she wiped her errant tears. How she missed her teacher and her friends at Clocktower Genderwise. But at the end of the day, Clocktower Society, the only place to ever accept and support her for what she was, was, ironically, a secret underground kink club hidden away from Equestria's judging eyes. And there wasn’t much point in renewing her membership at their kink club when her coltfriend had just walked out on her.

She felt a soft hiccup rise as she realized she couldn’t even call him a coltfriend anymore. It had been a year since they had last been intimate. He had been growing distant even long before that. She had noticed how his eyes had begun to drift to other mares, actual mares. As he spent more and more nights away from her bed, she knew she had lost him. She didn’t even bother confronting him about it. She knew she never had a chance to begin with. There was no way somepony like her, somepony incomplete, could compete with real mares. It had been a slow, cold death. The confrontation at Ponyville was for all intents and purposes all business.

There hadn’t even been any love left to break up.

She was once a lost, confused creature. He helped her find herself as a mare. His love made her a mare.

Now he was gone. And what’s left?

She looked to her personal pile, or, rather, the empty floor where it would be if she had anything personal. She dropped the letter there. She was about to do the same with the badge when she paused. She gave a little sigh as her mentor's voice and sheer force of habit compelled her to pocket the badge in her bathrobe.

She turned away, forcing herself not to dwell on petty melodrama, reaching out to grab something, anything else. Her hoof closed around something cool, metallic.

An empty cocoa can.

She was just about to drop it in the rubbish when her hoof stiffened. She frowned down at the alien object, her mind coming to a silly little realization.

She hadn’t paid for it yet.

Petty melodrama indeed.

She found him behind the donut shop's counter at 7 AM sharp. While the shop's bright white and red interior looked entirely different bathed in the early morning light, the stallion was a touch of reassuring constancy with his denim jacket and baker’s hat.

She hadn't wanted to come out of her hotel, not without half-decent make-up or the tender attentions of a mane stylist. But if there was one thing she was determined not to do, it was to forget things she owed, no matter how small, especially not after what happened at Ponyville.

Even if she had to go out in a very suspicious trench coat and bowler hat.

She peered up meekly over the counter top, waiting for him to notice her with a touch of trepidation. She almost leapt out of her fur again as his boyish emerald gaze fell upon her.

She took a deep breath and threw herself into the deep end. "U-um, f-for the cocoa!" Coloratura squeaked, offering up her piggybank.

The baker unicorn gave the piggybank an appraising look. To her relief, he took the piggybank and rang up her can of cocoa on the till without fuss. He returned to her with a card. She frowned curiously at it until she took it in her forehooves. 'Donut Joe's Customer Loyalty Card. One Free Donut and Drink With Every Visit. Forever.' it said.

It was her first customer loyalty card, ever! It meant she was an actual customer, buying stuff!

"F-for me?" She gasped, looking up at him excitedly.

He removed her bowler hat and placed a plate bearing a donut and a cup of coffee on her head in answer.

She couldn’t help it. She burst out in laughter at the ridiculousness of it all. She realized it was the first laugh she had in days. And it felt great.

He grinned at her mirth, levitating her bowler hat to a stand by the door.

She blushed a little at his smile of approval, quickly busying herself with her donut and coffee to hide her flushed cheeks. Her ears perked up as she listened to him pick up a cheerful tune, humming away as he went about levitating the chairs off the tables. There was something soothing about it, something that Coloratura could feel herself sing to.

He levitated his denim jacket off his broad withers, tying its sleeves about his cutie-mark, revealing the starched baker’s outfit beneath.

Coloratura suddenly became painfully aware of how silly her own trench coat looked on her. ‘He must think I’m really weird!’ she squeaked inwardly, practically ripping the trench coat off. She was awkwardly wondering what to do with the oversized coat when a brainwave struck her. She did the same and draped the trench coat about her cutie-mark, allowing it to drape about her hips like a skirt.

She gave a little squeak, flushing profusely as she realized he was suddenly right next to her, watching her with an amused smile. ‘Oh no! He must really really think I’m weird now!’

His horn lit up as he took magical hold of her coat sleeves, tying them snugly about her hips. He gave her another nod of approval before continuing about his business, leaving her a blushing, albeit smiling, wreck.

‘Simple but Bold! Coloratura’s new no-nonsense direction in showbiz reflected in strikingly casual fashion statement. Criticism of the new Coloratura fall on deaf ears as unprecedented Coloratura-inspired fashion fad takes Canterlot Boutiques by storm. Sassy Saddles of ‘Canterlot Carousel’ reports sales of trench coats has—’ Coloratura peered around the newspaper’s corner at the rest of the donut shop. It was its same old busy self, though a noticeable chunk of its patrons had taken to tying trench coats around their flanks.

Her bright emerald eyes simply sailed past them. She searched the crowds and quickly found him on the other side of the room. He was engaged with a large group of chatting ponies at one booth, smiling and nodding along to their animated conversation. His eyes caught hers from across the room. She was about to dive back behind her newspaper with a squeak when she noticed him beckon her over.

‘Oh no, I-I don’t have my personality coaches,’ she squeaked inwardly in fear. While she’d rather hide beneath her newspaper, her hooves betrayed her, propelling her towards him. ‘What do I do? What do I do?’ She thought in panic as she stepped up to his side.

“Come now, Donut Joe. We need a tie-breaker,” a dapperly dressed stallion at the table waved impatiently at the baker. Coloratura faintly recognized him as Fancy Pants, the pantless wonder whose misleading name has been hailed as a sarcastic slap in the face of society. She couldn’t help but wonder what a noble like him was doing in a donut diner of all places. “Oh, young lady, you’re Donut Joe’s friend, are you not? Be a dear and be his stand-in, would you? Horseshoepin or Octavia Melody?” Fancy Pants asked.

“Horseshoepin’s Etude Des Equines was a masterstroke of piano work that Equestria hasn’t seen in over a century!” Another noble pony sitting opposite Fancy Pants declared.

“He’s old-fashioned. Octavia Melody is a lot more progressive in her work, especially with her latest collaborations with DJ-Pon3.” A young noble mare argued impatiently.

“You see how we’re at an impasse.” Fancy Pants waved at his companions impatiently. “Dear lady, please, put us out of our misery, Horseshoepin or Octavia Melody?” He pleaded Coloratura.

“Um.” She looked to the baker stallion, as if hoping the answer was somehow written on his face. He only smiled his usual slow smile, his silence leaving even more emptiness for her to fill. She gulped as she realized he was relying on her for an answer. “Well, I think Horseshoepin has made great efforts to preserve the original Canterlotian tradition of Behoofen’s work, something that we’re in danger of losing especially after the collapse of the old Manehattan Philharmonic Orchestra. Octavia Melody, meanwhile, appeals more to younger ponies, cultivating fresh interest in classical media in modern music, something the world of classical music desperately needs at the moment.”

“Hear hear! I say we invite them both to the Classical Appreciation Evening.” Fancy Pants rapped the table to nods and smiles of approval of the other nobles. “You seem to know your music, young lady. We simply must have you there as well!” He waved at Coloratura.

Coloratura gave a sheepish little nod before looking about. The baker stallion had somehow managed to sneak off to the other side of the room to listen in on yet another circle of chatting ponies. He caught her eye once more, quickly beckoning her over with a wave of his hoof. She cantered to keep up with him, only to find him dropping her in yet another conversation. Then another. Then another. Before she knew it, she had spoken to every single pony in the diner — except for him.

He did plant a cup of coffee and a donut on top of her head as a reward though.

Sleep was more forgiving that night. Coloratura had dropped straight into her bed, trench coat, smile and all. The gentle warmth in her heart lulled her to sleep. She was quickly whisked away to dreams of a place far, far away from there, a land where the sun sets in the sea, a sanctuary hidden from the eyes of the world, a haven where confused ponies like her are welcome.

She remembered arriving at its secret gates hidden in an old clocktower. She was a broken creature, neither mare nor stallion, a square peg lost in a world of round and triangular holes. There she met fellow square pegs just like her. Together they were all taught that being a square peg is normal, that it might take more effort and hard work but even a square peg can find a place to belong in the world. But most importantly, they were taught that the world stops at the clocktower’s gates, that inside Clocktower Society they need not search for a place to belong. Because everypony always belong at home.

She found herself standing at those hidden gates once more that night, in a far away land where the sun sets in the sea. Her heart leapt with fond longing as she cantered up the familiar path towards home. Home with its customer loyalty card dressed in a denim jacket.

She woke up with a start just as the denim jacket planted a cup of coffee and a donut on her head. She panted hard, her front hooves groping her mane in a panicked search for the phantasmic cup of coffee and donut.

It took a while for her senses to return to her. When they did, she carefully decided that donuts before bed were probably a bad idea.