After completing your morning routine you set out to run your daily errands, feeling rested and refreshed. You didn’t have a job yet, but you had one lined up in the Equestrian Royal Research and Development branch. It's a government job, but only in the loosest sense. Apparently Celestia thought you were some alien scientist. You argued that a few classes worth of college level physics and chemistry didn’t exactly make you a genius, but she didn’t care. Introducing the concept of an electric toaster was impressive enough to cover your shortcomings. It was going to pay well once she did whatever paperwork she needed to hire you, but until then you lived off the land, and a small government subsidy. Yeah…welfare.

You made your way around town picking up odds and ends you needed. You did your best to push the events of the morning out of your mind, but you quickly find that to be an impossible task. You can’t help but feel that you and Dash started the morning on the wrong foot.

It wasn’t that weird was it? But every time you asked that question you always returned to the same answer. Yes. Yes it was weird.

You had a feeling this whole ‘play her colt friend’ idea was ill-fated from the start, but now you’re waist deep in it with a friend who, by the looks of it, was starting to become less than enthusiastic as well. But that’s the problem, you’re very enthusiastic. You were more eager to get touchy-feely with your pal than your rational mind could justify. You didn’t realize how much you looked forward to your afternoon nap until she broke the pattern this morning. That’d been a daily thing for at least…two months now?

You wander the snack isle of the town convenience store—your last stop on your list of errands. You needed to pick up more granola bars among other things. Dash ate your last one. You look at the options available. You both liked the honey flavor oats, but she did mention wanting to try honey-hay bars. You pull a box of hay bars off the shelf and toss them in your basket. She did eat eight of the ten bars in the last box. You grab another for good measure before heading to the dairy isle.

You promptly bump into a mare you didn’t see—making her fumble with the bag of shredded cheese in her hooves. “Oh sorry miss! Excuse me!” You make fleeting eye contact with the tan-coated pony who smiles meekly up at you. Of course she would be the exact same color as the floor.

“You’re fine! No harm done!” She keeps an eye on you with her shy smile until you awkwardly step around her and promptly occupy yourself with an assortment of dairy items.

Your knee totally hit her butt…hopefully the ignorant alien card still works. You’d seen the mare before; it was hard to find a new face in the small town. Luckily she’s a nice one, not the kind to jump to assumptions or start a mob.

You’d grown accustomed to being a foot taller than most doorways, and shelves, and having to take three steps at a time on staircases. Even the rough bite impressions in the wood handle of your basket went unnoticed. But the one thing that you never got used to was the vast array of coloring these ponies came in. And they always seemed to magically place themselves in your path right where you’d never see them. It was like camouflage, but in places you would never expect anyone to try to blend in.

You add a quart of milk to the brimming basket and haul it over to the checkout line.

“Howdy Anon!”

You spin around at the familiar voice and see Applejack falling in line behind you. Twilight had introduced you awhile ago, but you’d crossed paths quite often since then.

“Good morning AJ, how’ve you been?”

“Alright I reckon, Applebloom’s got some kinda stomach bug and I stopped by to snag some ginger root so Granny can whip up a stew fer her.” She glances at your basket, “You look like you’re stockin’ up fer winter?”

“Yeah. I was just replacing some of the food Dash ate. Speaking of which, I have a question I need to ask someone about…well, you don’t have any but you might know.” Maybe you can start getting some answers about Dash's behavior this morning.

She quirks an eyebrow at you, “Have any what, sugarcube?”

“Wings…” You think back to the awkward parting kiss in your doorway.

“And what about em?” She asks skeptically.

You shift your grocery bags to your other hand to aid in your unconscious gesturing, “So why does a pegasus just stick her wings out? Because I’ve been here a while and I’ve never really seen them do that for no reason.”

Her eyes dart around with surprise, ”Uhh…her? Are you talking about when they’re flying?”

Does she think you’re that stupid? “No, like when they’re just standing there.”

Her voice lowers to a whisper and the start of a smirk brightens her face, ”Oh…well who, may I ask, was stickin’ er wings out?”

You shuffle up in line. “Dash was over last night and—“

“—Oh my that was quick.”

“…What?”

She snaps out of her trance, “N-nothin sugarcube go on.”

“Yeah, so right before she left this morning we were…talking, and I just saw her wings out like that.”

Applejack’s grin grows a bit and she scoots close enough to tap your leg, ”Go on…”

“That’s it. She just left after that.”

She suddenly looks annoyed, ”Well obviously something happened.”

“Look, if you could give me your best guess to what’s up then I’d appreciate it.” You weren’t telling her the whole truth, but you promised Dash you’d stay quiet about it. Not like it would help her answer your question anyways. Either way, your experienced poker face convinces her she wasn’t getting anywhere by prying.

”Well…uhh, assuming you don’t already know…I reckon she’s fond of ya.” She winks.

Really? So it actually had a specific meaning? It was a good thing you asked because there was no way you would’ve made that connection on your own, besides, you thought she was done with the mushy confessions the night prior. “That’s it? I thought she was squaring up to fight me or something considering the setting and all.”

Her face contorts into a mixture of confusion, “Huh?“

“But then again there were other ponies around so she wouldn’t have done that.”

“Anon I-I don’t understand—“

“—Next!”

You turn to the annoyed cashier and start unloading your basket, “Oh, AJ, you can throw your stuff in with mine if you want since you’ve only got those few roots.”

She snaps out of some trance and her wide eyes meet yours, “S-sure, yeah, I ‘preciate that.” She tosses them in the pile and the cashier begins ringing them up.

It takes a moment, but she finally ends the awkward silence, ”I haven’t seen Rainbow in a while, how’s she doin’, o-other than…uh…”

She was Dash’s friend, but you figured that if Dash wanted her to know, she’d tell her herself, “She’s got a lot on her mind lately.”

”You mean with Zephyr?”

She already knew? ”Yeah actually. She tell you about it?”

”I’d say it was bout' a month ago. She was a bit embarrassed about the whole darn situation, but she finally opened up.”

“So how’d you deal with it?” It might help to know what’s been tried before and what doesn’t work.

”Well Rarity was thinking to ask him on a date, you know…to try an divert 'em a bit.”

“And did she?”

”Nope. Never went through with it.”

“Why not?”

She awkwardly scratches the back of her neck with a fore hoof, “Well, ya see, since he’s Fluttershy’s kin an all we didn’t want to start any drama and get any bad blood between us by pryin’ this thing open.”

“So…you didn’t do anything to help her?”

”Rainbow said she’d take care of it! Besides, it ain’t our business to pay mind to what’s between them!”

“I was just asking.”

She seems to catch herself a bit, ”Well she’s a very competent mare, I’m sure she can handle the fella.”

“Yeah, sure. And what does Fluttershy have to say about this? I mean he is her brother.”

”Fluttershy’s…doing her best, but she’s just not used to putting the hoof down.”

So Dash came to them for help and they all just blew her off?

“He’s not still pestering her is he?”

You don’t like her attitude at all. Why would she, or any of her friends just pretend like it was nothing? “You’ll have to ask Dash.” You pay the cashier and grab your bags—handing the small ginger roots to Applejack in the process.

”Oh…alrighty then. Thanks fer the roots I really—”

“—Tell Applebloom I hope she gets well.”

You don’t remember the walk back to your apartment, nor do you remember much of your dreary afternoon routine. You finish a science-fiction book Twilight recommended during the time you would’ve typically met up with Dash. She’d wanted to have a follow up ‘appointment’ to discuss how it related to fiction ideas you were already familiar with. Something about literary epistemology…not exactly a conversation you were looking forward to. And even if you were you’d already forgotten the first half of the book…as well as the part you just finished.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t remember you just didn’t have the capacity to try. Throughout the day you’d been bothered by the events of the morning, and what Applejack had told you only made things worse. It felt like you were buried in the sand and a tide was rising—steadily demanding more of your attention. You’d contemplated going to check up on Dash; a dozen decent excuses and a few pretty exceptional ones had crossed your mind, but even if you could fool her as to your true motivations where would that get you? What would you even say?

You sit up from your couch with a frustrated sigh. Obviously she’d come to you with her problem because her other friends left her hanging, and now you’d messed up…somehow? It could’ve been the sleepover, but maybe the whole reality of what she’d agreed to finally caught up with her. What if…she isn’t comfortable around you? What if she doesn’t fully trust you?

Cupboards slam as you angrily navigate your small kitchen in search of dinner ware. You're on edge because that uncomfortable theory answers a lot of questions, her odd behavior this morning, keeping her distance from you, her apparent sudden change of heart. And it was something you could’ve prevented. All you had to do was not be so…enthusiastic. It suddenly clicks. She must’ve caught on to your enthusiasm; she thinks you’re taking advantage of her. Your stomach sinks just from the though of it. You’d just betrayed the trust of your best friend, or at least she felt that way. And since perception is reality that means you’re guilty of it.

“Dammit!” You go to slam the knife drawer but your hands are full so you hobble a knee up to complete the angsty task. The metal knurled handle hits the base of your kneecap and a sharp pain shoots through your leg, “Gah! Stupid thing!” You contemplate opening it up to slam it again…just to teach the rebel appliance a lesson, but from prior experience you knew that only tended to miraculously compound your injuries. You painfully swallow your remaining anger and do a short breathing exercise to smother it before you lower your property value.

A moment later your placid eyes focus on the things you’d acquired in your dinner preparations. A small frying pan, a spatula, a fillet of bass, a mixture of spices, and a large bread knife…don’t need that. You open the knife drawer again and gingerly replace the knife, closing it gently.

As the smells of cooking fill the room your thoughts return one by one. Most get thrown out as you resign yourself to deal with it in the morning. But one thought wouldn’t leave you alone. Regardless of where you were at and how Dash thought of you, the fact still remained that she had a problem with Zephyr…one that made the confident, independent pegasus seek help on at least two separate occasions. It was clear that her security and peace of mind was a top priority, and as her friend it was your duty to see her through it. Knowing she’s safe is better than knowing you’re on perfect terms with one another. You never really believed you could have that severe a problem with your friendship, but it felt good to set your priorities straight.

The fish was worse than you remembered it being; not enough of the right spices. You’d attempted to keep a record of recipes before, but you were too lazy to maintain them and even if you did you’d yet to make something that was worth writing down. Your laziness wasn’t confined to just the stovetop, you’d also gotten in the habit of not using your proper plates and silverware relying instead on the fortitude of your paper towels and a wooden spork you’d picked up for a tenth of a bit at a swap meet. You still had to wash the spork, but it sure made clean up a lot easier.

After your nightly routine you settle down in your bed and assume a horrible lounging posture. You reach down to the bag beside your nightstand to grab another one of Twilight’s recommended readings at random. You honestly had no idea what she had in there besides a five pound thesaurus and that sci-fi fantasy. But judging by the bag’s heft she’d overestimated your reading ability and your enthusiasm. A narrow book with leather binding fills your fingers. Perfect, a small one. You retrieve the book and settle back down in your comforter. Scarlet-Hewn Wings—A Tale of Love and Tragedy.

“Seriously?” Your initial impulse is to exchange it for something else, but then you realize no one’s watching you so you don’t have to feel guilty. If anyone catches you with it you can just say the Princess ordered you to read it.

You flip to the first blank page to read Twilight’s note: This is the only classical text I could find that combines sociology with sexuality, a perfect starting point to help get you adapted in the vast field of romance!

“I guarantee you this book doesn’t have squat on Romeo and Juliet.” You say to her as if she’s sitting next to you. You knew she was doing it from the kindness of her heart, and probably a bit more for academic reasons, but you can’t help but feel a little weird. It was like having your mom sign you up for a dating site because she knows you’re too incompetent to get a date on your own.

You experimentally flip to a page part way through and a steamy cry of pleasure pops out from the text in all caps. Scratch that, more like having your mom subscribe you to Playboy.

The events of the day had put you through too much mental gymnastics to grasp the intricacies of another drama, so you close the book and set it on your nightstand. The lamp clicks off and you’re plunged into darkness.

Again, thoughts of your prismatic friend creep into your lethargic mind. It momentarily occurred to you that you might be overthinking things a bit…

…No…not a chance.