You are Anonymous, and you are looking forward to the day. The checks have come, and that means you'll finally have something to do with all your spare time. It's not that hanging out with Floor hasn't been great, but only so much time can be spent on drawing and idle chatter before it starts to grow stale. The library trip will inject some much needed variety into your daily routine.

Plus Floor is going to get to see her grandmother, something you know she is both anxious and excited about. "Hey, Floor, you ready? The bus across town leaves in ten minutes and we still need to reach the stop," you shout.

"Yeah, I'm almost dressed," she calls back through the door. Satisfied, you walk over to the exit and put your shoes on. Like any reasonable adult, you tied them just tight enough months ago and have simply been slipping your feet in ever since. Just in time for Floor to come out of her room sporting a familiar hoodie. "You changed?" you ask.

"Um, yeah, GramGram got me this sweater, so I want to wear it when I see her." It sends a small shiver up your spine, seeing her in the same sweater she almost died in, and you wonder if it makes her uncomfortable as well. She's clearly nervous, fidgeting in place with her eyes darting up periodically from the floor, but that could just be from her fear of leaving the apartment so early in the day. It's only one in the afternoon, and there will be more ponies out than she's used to.

With an internal shrug, you try to ignore the unease. If Floor Bored isn't bothered by the attire, then you can deal with it. "You sure you don't want to wait for a later bus?" you offer. "Visiting isn't over 'til six, and we'd at least have less ponies to deal with on the way back."

She bites her lower lip, before sighing a few seconds later. "No, I've kept GramGram waiting long enough as it is. I shouldn't put it off any longer." She looks to you for a moment, cheeks turning pink before breaking eye contact again. "And if we waited until later, we wouldn't have as much time to do other stuff." That's true, you suppose, with the library closing earlier that night than the other days of the week.

"Well, if that's what you want, we better hurry," you say, opening the door and gesturing her through. Once she's out, you lock up and the two of you move quickly down the stairs and to the bus stop. Luckily, though they aren't necessarily afraid, ponies are still weary of a tall, strange creature power walking down the sidewalk and so part around you, making an easy path for both you and Floor, who stays close on your heel.

Once on the bus, Floor chooses the far back corner and the two of you remain silent for the long trip across town. You'd start a conversation, but with how Floor has the hood of her faded brown sweater up and the drawstrings pulled to close it tight until only her muzzle shows, you figure she wouldn't appreciate the effort. Instead, you face forward and try not to squash the mare as the driver hits every speed bump in the city, sending you a good few inches into the air each time.

At one point, the little mare ends up in your lap, but quickly climbs off with an apology. By the time you finally reach your stop, both of you are a little wobbly getting off. After that, it's three blocks of walking before you're standing outside of the nursing home. "You ready?" you ask, looking down at your roomie who in turn is staring up at the building.

"... Do you think... GramGram will be happy to see me?" she whispers.

"Of course, why wouldn't she?"

"What if she's mad at me. I haven't visited in... a long time. Or even written. She sends me a card every Hearth's Warming and on my birthday, and I can't even take the time to send her one back."

Her voice begins to quiver as she goes on, and you quickly try to calm her. "Hey, hey, calm down. Listen, if your grandma loves you even half as much as I bet she does, none of that will matter at all to her."

"Y-you really think so?"

"I know so," you answer back confidently. "Now come on, we don't want to keep her waiting, do we?" She smiles back and nods, and the two of you enter the building.

The receptionist is drooping in her seat when you approach, eyes clearly straining to stay open, but immediately perks up when she notices you. "Oh, visitors!" she exclaims. "Here to keep the residents company?"

"Sort of," you answer. "We're here to see this ones grandmother."

Floor shrinks under the attention as the mare turns a bright smile towards her. "Oh, how nice, I'm always glad to see family visiting. It's far less common than I would like."

Regardless of whether she meant to or not, you can see how her words affect Floor, the younger mare gulping noticeably as she lowers her head.

"Do you mind letting us in?" you say a little snippy. "My friend here is really eager to see her grandma."

"Oh, of course, I just need you both to sign in here and then you can go. Most of the residents are in the gardens this time of day for fresh air."

You smile and grab the pen, quickly signing your name in cursive before handing it over to Floor, who snaps it up in her mouth and puts her front hooves on the desk to reach the paper, printing her name sloppily with a few twitches of her lips and a twist of her neck. Spitting it out and quickly dropping back down, Floor waits for the mare to look over the page.

The receptionist hums, absently wiping the spit from the pen on her cardigan before widening her eyes. "Floor Bored? You must be related to Floor Worn, right?"

"Um, t-that's right, ma'am," Floor answers.

The mare looks her up and down a bit with a small, somewhat sad smile. "She talks about you quiet often, but I was afraid you were- what with none of the mail getting responses... Well, I suppose what I thought doesn't really matter. I'm just glad you're here. Miss Worn is such a sweet mare, after all."

"Yeah... she is," Floor responds, looking away. After that, the mare gives you some quick instructions on where to go and the two of you head to the gardens.

As you wander through the halls, you can't help but look down at Floor Bored, who's dragging her hooves dejectedly. "Hey, don't let what she was saying get you down. she didn't even mean anything by it," you tell her.

"But she's right. GramGram deserves a better granddaughter than me. One who won't ignore her for years..." she answers in a whisper.

You sigh. "Listen, I'm not going to tell you that you haven't been in the wrong," you begin, getting the little mare to jerk up and stare at you. "You really should have stayed in contact with your grandma, especially when she's been in a place like this with no other family to visit her."

Floor is shaking now, and the two of stop as you turn to her. "You may not have meant any harm, but it was wrong all the same, and you know that," you continue, kneeling down and gently placing a hand on the side of her face to keep her looking at you. "But what I don't think you know, is what you have to do to make amends. Maybe you even think there's nothing you can do, but I'm telling you now, Floor Bored, that's wrong. It's never too late to do what's right, and right now, that's reconnecting with your GramGram. I stand by what I said outside, she's going to be nothing but happy to see you. And you want to make her happy, don't you?"

"Y-yes, I-I love her, so-so much," Floor says, tears running down her cheeks and over your hand. "I want to-to make her happy."

You smile softly, running a thumb over the damp fur. "I know you do, because you're a good pony, and a good granddaughter. You ready?"

She wipes her face dry on her sleeve and snorts loudly to clear her sinuses, before nodding. "Y-yeah, I'm ready," she says, smiling. With a pat on her head, you stand, and the two of you continue on to see Floor's GramGram.

Be Floor Bored, nervous, but determined to do right by the mare who raised you. It sounds great in your head. Noble even. But that isn't making it any easier to do as you stare at the mare dozing in the wheelchair across the garden.

She's near exactly the same as you remember. Her once pure-black mane now peppered white and pulled into a bun. Her coat several shades closer to brown than yours. Her hunched posture telling of age as her skinny forehooves rest in her lap.

If her eyes were open and one of those hooves were waving shakily goodbye as you left her for what would be for far too long, she'd look exactly as you last saw her.

"That her?" Anon asks, nodding towards the mare you've not taken your eyes from for a whole minute.

"Yeah... that's GramGram."

"We going to go say hi?"

"Just... give me a second," you answer, taking a deep breath and closing your eyes. Anon waits patiently until you let the air out and start moving forward. He follows behind as you make your way around old folks, his strange appearance getting some looks of wonderment that he returns with slight smiles and nods. Until finally, you're standing right in front of her, watching as she snores lightly.

You nearly return to staring creepily, but force yourself to open your mouth. "Um, GramGram," you begin, voice more quiet than you want. "GramGram, it's me, Floor." You raise a hoof, letting it hover a moment before mustering the courage to reach out to her own. With a gentle touch, you shake her lightly, and the mare snorts.

"Hmm, who's that?" she says, blinking her eyes open and smacking her her lips. "Who're you?" You don't know how to respond to that question as the old mare looks at you.

Could she really have forgotten how you look? Or maybe she just doesn't remember at all. With how long it's been, it wouldn't be a surprise if she simply forgot about you. It's what you deserve, after all.

She leans forward, eyes narrowing. "Well, come on, speak up, whoever you are, my eyes aren't what they used to be. You one of the nurses?"

"Um, actually," Anon starts only to be interrupted by a yelp.

"A talking tree! Nurse, call the guards! The ents have come to avenge their kin!" she screams.

"GramGram, no, this is Anon, he's not a tree!" you try to tell her, quickly grabbing hold of the mare before she managed to get over the back of her chair and hurt herself.

"I swear I didn't know he was liven' when I turned him into a dinin' table set, he should'a spoke up! Going around with grain that fine, he was askin' for it! It wasn't my fault, I-I... wait..." GramGram starts to slow in her struggles, eyes leaving Anon to stare at me. "Is that- Are you..."

"It's... It's me, GramGram, Floor Bored," you say guiltily. "I'm so, so sorry for not coming sooner, I just, I didn't know-"

"Eee! Floorey, I can't believe you're here!" shrieks the mare before she wraps her deceptively strong forelegs around your neck and pulls you into a suffocating hug. "Oh, Floor, I've missed you so much. Have you been gettin' my cards? I wasn't sure since you never wrote back. I wouldn't be surprised if those feather heads at the post office lost 'em all. You know how pagasus are."

"I got them," you say quickly, giving a strained smile over your shoulder at Anon. GramGram's not a tribalist, she just... phrases things bad sometimes.

"You did, hmm," the old mare says, pushing you back some to look at you with a blank expression. Then she bops you hard on the head.

"Ow!"

"You got my cards, and you didn't even write back!? Leaving your poor ol' grandma in the dark like that, I thought I raised you better!" The heat quickly began to leave the mare's voice as it quavers. "There were some nights I worried you'd gone and done something foolish to yourself. It'd keep me up 'til morning, the fear that somepony I didn't know was gonna come and tell me you left me just like your mother. What would I do then, eh, Floor? What kind of mare loses two foals to somethin' like that? I couldn't be there for either of ya like a mother should."

You don't fight her as she pulls you back into a gentle hug and quietly weeps on your shoulder. Guilt sits heavy in your gut as you remember that day two weeks ago, realizing what you nearly did to the only family you have. All you can do is return the hug and let the tears slide down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Floor, I shouldn't be blubberin' like I am. This is a happy occasion, after all," GramGram finally says, leaning back to smile and run a hoof through your mane.

"It's... it's okay, GramGram, it's my fault, really, I'm just glad I'm finally seeing you again."

"Same here, dear," she responds before her eyes slowly drift up towards Anon. "And who's your tall friend here... He's not an ent, right?"

"Uh, no ma'am, I'm a human," Anon answers awkwardly. "And Floor's roommate."

"Huh... So you're definitely not going to kill me, then use my skeleton to make a coffee table and my hide to fashion some macabre, but tasteful window curtains?" she questions carefully.

"No, I... didn't plan on it, ma'am," Anon responds, gesturing towards you, "I'm just tagging along with her." As an after thought, he adds, "It's nice to meet you."

GramGram heaves a sigh. "Phew, that's a relief. I thought those wooden peckers finally found me. Safe for another day." She begins to Look Anon up and down. "A human, huh? I think I've heard of your kind before. It was floatin' around with a lotta technobabble 'bout twenty-some years ago."

"Sounds about right," Anon replies.

"So you're living with my granddaughter, eh? When did that happen?"

"About a week ago, the whole things kind of... complicated."

GramGram hums. "I bet, and you've been treating my Floorey right?"

"Of course, ma'am, Floor's a precious friend."

"How 'bout in bed? You able to keep up?"

"GramGram!" you shout, absolutely mortified as Anon goes into a coughing fit.

GramGram just looks at you confused as she says, "What? Your room was right next to mine growin' up, I remember how long it took you ta be satisfied. I remember because I couldn't get any sleep until you were done. You kept me up for hours some nights."

"Stop talking!" you shriek, hooves flying up to cover the elderly mare's mouth, with one accidentally slipping in. A few muffled words escape around the hoof until you notice the glare she's leveling your way, which has you pulling the limb back with an eep.

You look down at the dentures still clasped around your hoof, then up to the droopy-lipped face of your grandma as she scowls, before you quickly pop the choppers back in her mouth. "Sorry, GramGram," you squeak, face absolutely burning.

She harrumphs and looks back to Anon, who's just catching his breath. "So, you got an answer, colt?"

"No! I mean," Anon sputters a little before regaining some composure, "We don't do... that. We're just friends living together. I even sleep on the couch."

"Really?" she begins, turning back to you. "Well, sorry for presumin', I just figured Floorey brought you along so she could introduce me to her coltfriend. I mean, it's as good a reason as any for a visit out of the blue."

You groan and sink to the grass, praying for Celestia's great magnifying glass in the sky to shine down and vaporize you. It'd be a better fate than your grandmother embarrassing you to death in front of Anon.

"It's fine," Anon says. "It's an honest mistake... I think. Anyway, now that introductions are all out of the way, you two can finally catch up. I'm sure there's a lot you want to talk about."

"There sure is," GramGram agrees, smiling warmly down at you. "I want to here all about what my sweet granddaughter has been up to." Even through the mortification, you can't help but smile back up at her.

"Well, I'll give you two some privacy," Anon says, stepping away. "Maybe I'll talk to some of the other ponies here. I'm sure they have some great stories. Just come get me when you're done, Floor."

You agree, watching as he waves over his shoulder before turning back to GramGram and seeing her sly grin. "What?" you ask, getting the mare to lean in.

"You like him," she practically sings, "I'd recognize that look anywhere."

"Wha- what are you talking about?" You stutter back. "Y-you heard Anon, he's just a friend."

"A friend that you want to bend you over a hay bale."

"GramGram!"

"He's a big one too, hopefully the goods scale with the rest of him."

"GramGram, please," you moan, sinking back down and getting the older mare to chuckle.

"Oh, you know I'm just teasing, Floorey, stop slouching like that. You're going to destroy your back with such awful posture."

You sigh, but do as your told. You'd forgotten how frustrating GramGram could be sometimes. As she starts firing off questions about Anon, and your life in general, however, showing an enthusiasm and interest in you no pony else ever did, you also remember why you love her so deeply.

You are Anonymous, currently trying not to fall asleep as an old stallion regales you with the tale of the great turnip famine of his youth. It's not nearly as riveting as he thinks it is.

"Parsnips! That's what we had to use instead. You ever have parsnip stew, sonny? No, you haven't because turnips are better in every way! That was a harsh winter, alright. We were nearly starved when it was over on account of how just plain unpalatable our food was. We were a town built on turnip farming. Turnip juice was in our veins, and all we had were stinkin' parsnips for over three months!"

"Mhmm, sounds like a real ordeal," you comment, suppressing a yawn.

"It was for sure. The memories still haunt me. I wake up with the smell of inferior tubers lingering in my nostrils and I have to sniff the turnip I keep under my pillow just to remind myself it was only a nightmare."

The stallion looks ready to go on another long spiel about root vegetables before you are thankfully saved by your roommate. "Um, Anon, am I... interrupting?"

"No, no, of course not!" you answer, quickly standing. "I'm sorry, Floor, I lost track of time."

"Oh, have I been keeping you from this lovely young miss? Terribly sorry, lad. Had I known you were here with your special somepony, I would have choice a less enthralling tale. Hope you can forgive me."

As Floor blushes, you struggle for words. "Wha-? No, this is- She's my- we're just..." You give up with a sigh, rubbing your forehead. "...It's no problem, Mr. Taproot. I'll... talk to you later."

"Another visit then? That'd be much appreciated. The orderlies around here are horrible listeners," the old stallion says, trying to hide a hopeful smile with a angry huff. You bid him a final farewell before leading the still blushing Floor Bored back to her grandmother.

"Old Taproot talking your ear off, was he?" the older mare asks as you approach. "Good on ya, Floorey for the rescue. That stallion can go on for hours about turnips if given the chance."

"It wasn't so bad," you say unconvincingly. "It made him happy at least, having someone to talk to."

"Oh no, don't let him sink his hooks in you, boy," the elder warns. "I made that mistake, and now I'm stuck having lunch with him everyday, listenin' to him talk about how the food here doesn't have enough turnips in it." She leans back, crossing her front legs. "Fool's lucky he's cute or I wouldn't put up with it."

While Floor groans slightly, her senior pats her belly. "Actually, speakin' of lunch, it should be comin' up soon. Floor, can you be a dear and ask one of the orderlies what it's gonna be today? I hope it's not steamed alfalfa again."

"Um, I... guess," she answers, looking hesitantly towards one of the orderly ponies. Her grandmother simply makes a shooing motion when she looks back, and Floor sighs.

You're about to offer to do it for the shy pony, but are interrupted by a voice clearing. "Anon, I need to talk to you," Floor Worn states, expression serious.

"Uh, sure, what's up," you respond curiously.

"What is Floor to you?"

"Well, like I said, she's a friend."

The mare raises a brow. "And that's all?"

"I... guess. We've only known each other for two weeks, but I still think of her as a pretty good friend."

Floor Worn remains silent for a few seconds before sighing. "That so? You know, I'm a bit curious about that, how you two met and why your livin' together. After only two weeks, that's a mite strange. I asked o'course, but she was real evasive. Didn't want to tell me how you met, or how you ended up moving into her place."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "It's... complicated."

"I don't doubt it, but you don't got to tell me," the older mare says, looking over at her granddaughter who is standing a few paces behind one of the orderlies, trying to gather the courage to speak to them. "As much as I want to know, it's for Floor to tell me. When she's ready, I'll be here to listen. One thing she didn't have to tell me though, was how much she cares for you. It was clear in the way she spoke; she thinks the world of ya."

You scratch the back of your neck. "That's sweet of her, but I'm nothing special. Just a guy trying to get by like the rest of them."

"That's not how she sees it. In just two weeks, you've become somepony precious to her. I've never seen the filly take to another like she has to you, shy as she is. You're her... best friend, which is why I'm tellin' you now, don't you dare hurt my foal."

"Miss Floor Worn, I promise, I'd never do that," you say earnestly, getting the mare to frown a bit.

"Maybe not on purpose, but you said it yourself, she's just a friend. You don't see her the same way that she sees you, and if you think you can just walk out of her life and she'll be just dandy with it, you're plain wrong, mister." She looks to her lap, hooves pressed together as her voice quiets. "We Floor mares don't have the best of luck with stallions, for one reason or another, you always leave us."

With another sigh and a slight shake of her head, she looks back up to you, eyes steely. "That filly's suffered enough; she doesn't need anymore pain in her life."

You meet her gaze with equal determination "I know that, believe me, I know, that's why I'll do everything I can to keep Floor Bored happy. I won't leave her if I can help it, and if I can't, well, I guess I'll just have to find a way."

Floor Worn stares, seemingly taking measure of your conviction, before finally chuckling. "So serious," she says, leaning back in her seat and relaxing. "I like that, tells me you'll take good care of my girl."

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"Course you will," she responds with a sage nod. "'Cause if you don't, I'll take a hatchet to those saplings you call legs and shout timber."

"Wait, what?"

Author's Notes:

We got two images by Scraggleman this chapter.
GramGram Floor Worn:

And Rigby reference Floor Bored: