She wasn’t sure if she was invited, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going anyway. She hadn’t missed a family reunion yet, and she sure as hay wasn’t going to start missing them now. And here: familiar faces, everypony milling, talking, chatting, having a grand old time. ‘Come help in the kitchen, dear!’ and suddenly she was transported back to cooking, baking, frying, laughing⁠—through all of it, nopony said a word. Did they not care? Did they not understand? She smiled, asked around, and in the end she realised that it was worse than that: nopony knew at all.

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