“You... you wanted to see me, sir?”
The grizzled stallion looks up from between the stacks of papers on his cluttered desk to spot two golden eyes peering around the doorframe to his office.
“Ah... yeah, Hooves. C'mon in, close the door and have a seat. Just be careful not to—”
No. No, it's far too late for that now.
Rule #1 when dealing with this mare: ALWAYS relay warnings before instructions. Already, a careless swipe of her blonde tail as she spins around to close cramped office's door has sent the towers of semi-organized papers on his desk crashing to the floor, their contents intermixing with one another nearly perfectly.
The middle-aged stallion doesn't cry out in surprise, anger, or even horror at the display. It'd be pointless because this sort of stuff is par for the course, and really, it's his own fault this time. Instead, he briefly fantasizes about the bottle of whiskey stored away in the nearby cabinet that'll be brought out just as soon as this is over with.
The gray mare's flank plops down in her seat.
“Derpy Hooves, reporting as ordered, Postmaster Crate, sir!”
She salutes a little too enthusiastically with her hoof and ends up klonking herself in the head. To her credit, she maintains her rigid pose and attempts to ignore the pain, though the slight sign of building tears doesn't escape Crafty Crate's notice. One of her eyes glances at the carnage she's caused, and sure enough, two folded ears and a rose-tinged blush of shame join the now single tear that rolls down her face.
“And... sorry...”
The stallion merely shakes his head with an exasperated sigh.
“At ease, Mailmare Hooves. And don't worry 'bout it. Wasn't important anyway.”
It was actually really important, but there's no reason she needs to know that. Rule #2: Usually the only thing worse than her breaking something is her subsequent attempts to fix whatever it was she broke...
The overworked pegasus stallion leans down from his chair to the heap of documents on the floor. Miraculously, the papers he needed are right there on the top of the collapsed pile, despite being lost amongst the towering stacks all morning. Thank Celestia at least something positive came out of this! He sets the papers down on his newly cleared off desk and clears his throat.
“Erhrm. Well, anyway, welcome to your annual performance review, Mailmare Hooves. As you know we have to do one of these things every year as per Royal Equestrian Postal Service policy, yadda yadda yadda. But look, I know this stuff's as boring for you as it is for me so let's get this over with. I know you wanna get to your route and I've...” he glances down once again at the paper-covered floor. “I've got other stuff to do.”
Crafty Crate sighs again and flips through the file. The bubbly mailmare on the other side of the desk remains at attention, at least one of her eyes focused forward intently.
“To keep a long story short, Hooves, you had a decent year this year. Like always, there's room for improvement, but most of the ponies on your route reported they're happy with their postal service in response to our survey. I know you don't need to hear me say it again, but if you could just keep the collateral damage down, you'd be damn near the best we've got...”
Derpy nods vigorously. “Yes, sir! Understood, sir!”
“Right. Aside from the random damage claims, you got high marks for speed, accuracy, and overall route efficiency. And lots of ponies wrote in that they appreciate your dedication to deliver during adverse conditions since that student of the Princess moved to town. Good job.”
Derpy beams. “No matter if it's rain, snow, parasprite attack, changeling invasion, or a complete rewrite of the laws of the universe by a chaos god who was imprisoned in stone in a public place where it was really obvious that the magical seal that bound him could easily be worn away over time by the ambient chaotic actions of the many ponies who visit said place on a daily basis and you'd think that somepony as wise as Princess Celestia would probably know better but she's the Princess so I guess she had a good reason, the mail must always go through! That's my motto!”
She blinks, her eyes reversing their orientation in the fraction of a second between the moment they were hidden and the moment they reappeared. The bizarre spectacle completely erases the previous minute's worth of conversation from the stallion's mind like it always does, leaving only a nervous silence as he attempts to recover and she happily looks on.
“Er... right. Well, anyway, good job. Based on your performance I'm gonna recommend you for the standard 1% salary increase. If Canterlot approves it you oughta be seeing it in your pay starting next week.”
Derpy leaps into the air. “Really?! Oh... thank you so much, sir! I promise I'll make you proud!”
To his horror, she begins a series of completely unnecessary yet joyous aerial spins that endanger the room's standing lamp, a fragile award plaque from the Canterlot branch, and a photo of Crafty Crate's equally grizzled-looking wife and daughters. He lets out the breath he was holding as her fluttering becomes relatively stable and she returns to her seat.
“It's almost over,” he mumbles to himself. “Just keep it together, and think of the whiskey...”
One of the mailmare's eyes wanders to the nearby wall clock and she jumps with surprise.
“Oh! I need to start on my route now. I don't want to be late!”
“Hold it, Hooves!” A hoof slams on the desk as she moves to retrieve her mailbags from near the door. “I haven't dismissed you yet, and there's still something left we need to discuss.”
“Sir?” The mailmare's wings slump down and turns to face him, her ears nervously folded back.
With another sigh, he attempts to make eye contact, completely forgetting Rule #3: Don't make eye contact with Derpy. Attempting to hide his flinch at the sight of her odd condition, he focuses his attention on the desktop photo of his family.
“Look... I'll give it to you straight, Hooves. We've been gettin' complaints. They're recent; within the last month or so, so they weren't reflected on your survey results or review, but about a quarter of the ponies on your route've reported that they're gettin' their mail late. Sometimes not even until after sundown. The mail's still going through, so I ain't that mad at you, but I've still gotta address this to keep our customers happy. Can you tell me what's going on?”
The gray mare cowers a bit, chuckling nervously. “Oh, you know me, sir! Sometimes I get all turned around and muddled up! Sometimes I run into things and drop my bag and get lost and it makes me late and I'm real, real sorry, I promise I'll do better!”
Crafty Crate frowns and shakes his head. “I know this ain't just the usual clumsiness. I did some diggin' and found out that all the complaints've come from ponies on the back half of your route. Now c'mon, I'm not gonna be mad, but I need to get to the bottom of this. What're you doing out there in the afternoons that's causin' you to miss deliveries, Derpy?”
“Nothing! I'm just being dumb, sir! Dumb old Derpy Hooves! But I'll do better, really I will!”
She closes her eyes, and he turns to see several tears roll down her face before falling to the wooden floor with a barely perceptible patter. He looks away again to his youngest daughter smiling at him from the family photo.
“Look... I'm not trying to be mean to you. You're a good worker. You know that and I know that. You're not in trouble, and if you tell me what's going on maybe I can hel—”
“I've gotta go! If I don't go I'm gonna be late and the ponies'll be even more mad with me, right? I'll do better! I'll do better, sir! You'll see, really you will!”
Before the stallion can reply, she's gathered her mailbags and flown out the door, backwards, the telltale crash and surprised scream that follows a sure sign that she rammed into another mailpony on the way out.
Crafty Crate just sighs and shakes his head, once again surveying the mess his office has become. He slumps down on his desk in defeat, sending the last small organized stack of papers perched on the edge falling to the floor.
“They sure as hell don't teach you how to deal with this stuff as part of Postmaster training, that's for damn sure...”
He chuckles a bit before settling his eyes on his family photo once more.
“But raising a few daughters of yer own sorta helps. Celestia knows I've seen enough of those kinda tears to last a lifetime. Hope that stallion doesn't break her heart, 'cause if he does and I ever find out who it is, I'll break his legs.”
With a yawn, he straightens back up and begins collecting the papers from the floor. If he's lucky and no emergencies crop up, he'll be finished sorting before the end of the day. Maybe.
As he gathers the next stack, he surreptitiously pulls out the whiskey from its hiding place. And as the familiar taste burns his throat, the tired Postmaster comes to the realization that maybe a day stuck in the office sorting paperwork won't be so bad after all.
“...Thanks, Hooves.”
With a satisfied smile, he reaches down to retrieve the next set of papers.
~~~~~~~~~
Several letters escape from Derpy's mailbags as she makes a not-so-graceful midair turn down one of the town's side streets. One of her eyes captures the wayward envelopes as they sail amidst the calm spring breeze and she quickly spins around to gather them, only stopping to plant her rump on the ground in relief once every single one is safely accounted for.
“Slow down, Derpy. You're moving too fast, Derpy. The mailboxes aren't going anywhere, Derpy...”
She chants the words barely above a whisper, even though there are no ponies nearby to overhear them. The little street, with its modest homes built in the traditional Ponyville style, is empty during this time of day, when most everyone is at school or work. To her, the quiet cul-de-sac almost looks like something you'd see on one of those postcards the stuffy tourists from Canterlot sometimes buy when they're in town to show their friends later.
She pauses to giggle at the thought. If a photographer pony were here right now to take the picture for the next batch of cards, would she be in it? Would Canterlot ponies show the cards to their friends and talk about what it was like to be in a backwater town full of silly little ponies like her...?
“No...”
Her ears droop as she looks to the ground. No, that wouldn't happen. The photographer would shoo her off so that she wouldn't be in the picture. He'd treat her like a nuisance and he'd be happy after she went away.
'You should live in reality, Derpy. It's for the best.'
That's what her conscience tells her when she starts to daydream, and she knows it's true. She needs to face reality. There's no point fantasizing about things that won't be, and there's no point in ignoring what happened this morning.
Her tail curls around her flank, obscuring the bubbles signifying her special talent from view.
“You ran away. You know why, too.”
The disappointed face of Crafty Crate finds its way into her thoughts.
It's not so much that he was mad at her. Ponies get mad at her all the time, and she's used to it.
No, it was the slight look of resignation in his expression that caused her to run.
Postmaster Crate was like an adoptive father to Derpy. He took a chance on her when no one else would, and he always told her that as long as she tried her best, the Royal Equestrian Postal Service would have a place for her, and he was true to his word.
But that look of resignation on his face this morning... that was new. Not completely new to Derpy, because she's seen it before on the faces of lots of other ponies she's worked for. It's the same look Rainbow Dash would give her after she'd fail at whatever simple assignment she was given during her days on the Weather Patrol, or during Winter Wrap-Up.
But it was new from Postmaster Crate. He looked at her like all the others have at some point... like her failure was inevitable and expected. And what really hurt the most about it was that she knew why he felt that way.
It's because she really hasn't been trying her best. Not since Anon came.
“Don't, Derpy...”
She shakes her head, her blonde mane tumbling about, and gets back on her hooves. She trots down the street, and the letters all find their proper places. She finds herself on the main road after completing her loop of the cul-de-sac, and she moves toward the next street on her route.
Two more streets until Anon.
“Don't, Derpy...”
She trots down the next street, and the letters all find their proper places.
Anon is...
Anon is why the mail's been late.
She lied to Postmaster Crate, and it hurt to lie. But what else could she do? He wouldn't understand. He'd tell her she was just being silly, just like Carrot did.
The houses pass by one after another, and little by little her mailbags lighten.
Twilight said... what did Twilight say back then? She said that Anon came from another world. That he was some kind of monkey. That doesn't make much sense though, because Anon doesn't have a lot of hair on his body. Hardly any, really, now that she thinks about it. It's weird, but also cool, too.
He's a big monkey. He's twice as tall as the tallest pony she's ever met. When she's not flying and she stands in front of him, it's like she's looking up at that big statue in Manehatten from the base. She only visited once as a filly, but the sight of the statue really stuck in her mind.
Twilight also said that Anon was an omni-something. He eats meat, and veggies, but not grass or hay. When she asked Twilight if he ate ponies, she said she didn't think so. But an answer like that doesn't do much to put a pony's fears at ease, and that's why Anon was so, so scary to her. On the bright side, at least she could avoid him if she wanted.
Then, thanks to the Princesses, he settled in a modest house on Trotsburg Lane.
A house with an address.
A house that gets mail.
A house on Derpy's route.
Their first real meeting, well... it was a disaster.
She came to deliver the mail, and he was home. He was in the garden planting flowers. Flowers, she later learned, he had no intention of even eating!
When he stood up to greet her, she was so scared that she flew away as fast as she could, losing about a fourth of her mailbag's contents in the process. She hid on a cloud nearby, panting for breath, until she realized her bags felt much lighter than they should. A look over the edge and her worst fears came true: letters scattered all over the street and a human standing there amongst them.
She knew she had to retrieve the letters, because the mail must always go through! But how could she risk it with the big, strange creature standing there? The big, strange creature whose eyes were somehow trained upon the very cloud where she was hiding?
Thankfully, she learned that day that humans can't fly like pegasi can...
But still, she was paralyzed with fear and couldn't move a muscle. She stayed that way for what felt like forever, and then...
And then...
And then the strangest thing happened.
He collected each fallen letter. Not with his mouth, but with the strange talons on the end of his forelegs.
He made sure to get every single one.
Then with one last glance at her cloud, with what she thought was maybe a smile, he opened his mailbox and put the letters safely inside, and went back into his home.
A giggle rings out amidst the breeze.
“You... you really thought it was a trap at first, silly pony...” she says to no one in particular as she flutters back to the main road.
One more street until Anon.
Come to think of it, that was her first hint that he was nice. After that came other hints, and her fear of him began to ebb away.
Soon they were able to chat with one another. Being a mailmare is kind of a lonely job. Either the streets are empty, or somepony is yelling at you about how you've accidentally destroyed her lawn gnome collection or stuff like that. At least that's been Derpy's experience...
But Anon was always nice to talk to, and she began to really look forward to the part of her day when she would get to see him.
Their daily talks went on for a while, and then IT happened.
She feels a shudder of euphoria run down her body at the thought, and it almost causes her to drop the letters she's holding in her mouth.
It was a day like any other, but not really. She'd overslept and she was late. She knew there'd be no time to talk to Anon like usual, but she wanted to make time. Those talks, those kind words they shared had become what she looked forward to the most during the week.
So she rushed to make the deliveries. Faster than she ever had before. At around halfway through the route, she was so frazzled and so focused on getting the mail done that she slammed into a very surprised Anon, who had come outside to greet her.
At first she feared she'd hurt him, but despite the speed at which she hit his chest, he stood firm. And that's when she learned...
Humans give the BEST hugs.
She tried to explain it to Carrot later, gesturing wildly, and even hugging her to try to demonstrate.
'But Carrot, look! He has these things called 'arms'! They're a lot longer than our forelegs and they bend in different ways! And they wrap you up and it's so warm and—'
Poor Carrot didn't want to hear it. She warned Derpy about getting too close to the human, just like always.
'He's a weird thing from another world, Derpy! We hardly know anything about him! I'm only saying this because I'm worried about you...'
The bubbly pegasus snorts and turns her head in the air after delivering the next batch of letters. Well, her loss! She never even got to hear about the 'fingers' and what they can do!
After that day... well, maybe she was a bit too forceful, but a big hug became the customary greeting they shared when she saw Anon. He didn't seem to mind, though. She'd fly into his chest, much more carefully of course, and he'd wrap his arms around her.
Her wings would fold closed, no longer needed because he'd support her weight. His free hand would run along and pet her mane, dancing between the blonde strands, and her ears would flick to and fro with delight.
And everything would become perfect in that moment.
“Don't, Derpy...”
She shakes her head and stops to sort through her mailbags, making sure nothing was missed.
They'd always have to part. She had her route, and he had his job at the train depot. He worked the evening shift, which is why he was always home when she came by with the mail. He'd work into the night, loading and unloading cargo from the trains that run through Ponyville that come from all corners of Equestria...
He'd say goodbye to her as he made his way down the road. She'd wave back just as hard as she could, enthusiastically telling him to have a good day at work. She'd watch him disappear, and she'd return to the normal routine of her route.
Yeah, at first that's what she'd do.
But something changed. Their meetings, their partings... with each one her heart began to thunder in her chest in anticipation, only to slow with longing later. Instead of returning to her route, she'd find a secluded cloud, or a tree branch in an out of the way place, and she'd daydream for a while, even though she knew she shouldn't.
The mail still came through, of course. But sometimes her dreams would carry her away until sundown, and she'd have to scramble to deliver the last of her letters in the dark.
She knew it was wrong. She knew she wasn't trying her best... but she kept doing it anyway.
Anon was a lot of things to Derpy. Even though he was so strange, so unlike anyone she had ever met, she knew he was kind, she knew he was caring, and she knew he was a great friend. Even if the other ponies couldn't see it, she knew it from the bottom of her heart, and she made sure he knew that she knew. The hugs were just icing on the cake.
But there was something special about him too. Something else. Something amazing, something that set him apart from everyone and everything in the world...
She drifts by a sign, one of her eyes briefly scanning the letters before they fly past her:
'Trotsburg Lane'.
“A-Already?!”
Her cheeks redden and she nearly crashes into a lamppost.
'No, Derpy,' she thinks to herself after the narrow miss. 'It's just a fantasy. It needs to stop. You need to focus on your route. Just say 'hi', get your hug, and keep going. Remember, Postmaster Crate is counting on you, and the mail must always go through!'
That's right, it's just a fantasy. There's no telling if he even likes ponies like that, and she could never find the courage to ask.
And even if he did like ponies, let's be honest... why would he ever choose a pony like her? He deserves so much better. He deserves the prettiest pony in town... no, in the world!
She laughs to herself as an unexpected tear falls to the cobblestone street.
“Yeah, you're just being dumb like usual, huh?”
She nods to herself in agreement as she resolves to finish this street and move on to the next. What's so special about Trotsburg Lane, anyway?
Yet, she still counts the houses as they pass. 1, 2, 3, 4...
And with each house, her heartbeat quickens and her smile grows wider.
Soon enough, the simple garden he has so much pride in comes into view, and she's flying much too fast. No worries, though, because Anon'll...
He's not there?!
She swerves just in the nick of time to avoid smashing into the side of the house, and instead smacks into the ground, tumbling over a few times before coming to a stop on the neatly maintained grass of Anon's front lawn. She shakes her head, trying to beat back the dizziness that overwhelms her senses as several gray feathers waft about in the air around her.
“What happened...?”
The world comes back into her unique brand of focus, and she looks to the front door of the modest house.
“Anon?”
He's nowhere to be found. The curtains are drawn, so she can't even see inside the windows. She stands once more, trotting toward the door, her heart beating even faster as her anticipation turns to worry.
“Anon, where are you?”
She's almost on the porch before she stops herself, the voice of her conscience speaking up above the rest of her muddled thoughts.
'Isn't this what you wanted? You can deliver Anon's mail and keep going. It'll be easier this way. You should live in reality, Derpy. It's for the best.'
“But...” she replies, one of her eyes focused on the door. “But Anon's ALWAYS been here to greet me. What if... what if he's hurt, or sick, or...”
'Or maybe he's just tired of you,' the voice answers back.
Derpy's breathing hitches and a lump forms in her throat. It wouldn't be the first time, and it probably won't be the last, either.
She sniffles, casting both her eyes to the ground.
That doesn't stop it from hurting, though... and for some reason, for it to happen with him hurts worst of all.
The little mailmare closes her eyes to shut the world away. Whenever things become too much to handle, she could always at least do this.
But the usual emptiness isn't there to greet her when her sight fades away. Not this time. Instead, she sees the human's smiling face. And in his expression, she sees the thing that sets him apart from everything else in the whole world.
Once again, her heartbeat quickens as her smile returns.
“No... he'd never do that,” she says as her eyes open and she lifts her head with confidence. “He's my friend, and he needs me!”
In an instant, she jumps to her hooves, ready for action! She flutters to the porch, raises a hoof, and knocks!
...
...
...
She knocks again!
...
...
...
No response.
She bites her lip as a thousand different nightmare scenarios play out in her head.
What if a manticore wandered in from the Everfree and snuck into his house?
What if he slipped on the soap in the shower?
What if he got a really annoying splinter and he's been spending all day trying to pick it out but it's one of those small almost invisible ones and it's driving him crazy?!
“I know what I must do.”
Without hesitation, she takes to the air once more, positions herself a good distance away from the nearest window, and takes aim with her bubble-covered rump.
And with a crash, she flies backwards through the glass, sending splinters, shards, and a plucky postal pegasus cascading into the living room.
She hesitantly opens an eye to take in her surroundings once the dust settles and she comes to a stop. The nearby curtains move in the gentle breeze that flows in from the now-shattered window, but aside from that and the debris on the floor, everything looks normal. She hops to her hooves and begins making her way from room to room on the first floor, scanning intently for anything out of the ordinary.
“Anon?”
The kitchen is empty, save for a few dirty dishes in the sink.
“Are you here?”
No reply from the little dining nook.
“Your... your window's broken...”
The downstairs bathroom is unoccupied, as is the guest room, study, and utility room.
As she makes her way back to the main entrance where the stairs are, one of her golden irises catches a key detail: the front door was unlocked all along!
“Whoopsie...” she mutters, pretending she didn’t notice as she makes her way up the stairs.
When she reaches the master bedroom, her search finally yields fruit.
“Anon!”
There, in the bed, fast asleep and lightly snoring, is the missing human. A band of sunlight shines forth from a gap in the room's curtains, painting a golden pattern over his half-covered body as he peacefully dreams.
“Thank goodness I... found you...”
Derpy's voice drops to a whisper as she blushes and turns away at the sight, her heart beating a mile a minute. She sits back on her haunches, the half-full mailbags around her sides sliding gently to the floor, and she breathes out a relieved sigh, which quickly turns into a series of giggles.
“You had me worried, sleepyhead!”
Fragments of their conversation from yesterday begin to drift back into her memory. That's right, he said he'd have to work really late on his shift at the station, didn't he? He must've been really tired and forgot to set his alarm. That's all it was.
She smiles again, her tail swishing back and forth with delight.
“I knew it... I knew you'd never—”
'Maybe not now,' says the nagging voice of her conscience. 'But what about when he wakes up to find you here watching him sleep after breaking into his house?'
“Er...”
Yeah. Yeah, that is gonna be a problem. Things around her have a habit of spiraling out of control sometimes. Or most of the time. But who's counting, right?
She ponders for a moment, Anon's snoring the only ambient sound to compete with her thoughts. This all started because she couldn't tell Postmaster Crate the truth when she should've. Trying to lie to Anon to cover up her mistakes'd probably just make things worse, so...
'So you should fix it, Derpy. Be honest.'
She stands once more, her shoulders square. Right, fix it. She'll wake Anon up, tell him what she did and apologize. Easy. She marches over to the bedside.
“Anon? Anon, wake up. I... uh... I sorta...”
And that's when she notices it. There, held tightly within Anon's arms, is a pillow.
An ordinary pillow.
An ordinary pillow that she suddenly feels very, very jealous of.
That... that was supposed to be HER hug!
“Don't, Derpy...” she quietly chides herself. Now's not the time to be getting carried away.
She reaches a hoof out to lightly tap the sleeping human's shoulder.
“Anon? Anon, wake up. It's me, Derpy.”
He responds by snoring even louder and tightening his grip on the pillow.
Derpy frowns. She taps harder.
“Wake up, Anon!”
His snoring matches the volume of her voice as it gets even louder. She stares at him incredulously, one eye on the human's face and the other on the dastardly pillow.
“Wow... humans are really heavy sleepers, huh? What do I do?”
She ponders for a moment before perking up with a slight flutter of her wings as a realization hits her. She leans forward and takes a corner of the pillow in her mouth and starts to tug.
“C'mon... wake... up!”
The human stubbornly refuses to let go of the feather-filled item. She pours more and more strength into her efforts, even flapping her wings to try to pull the pillow from his grasp.
“Come... on... Anon!!”
And then, with one last surge of determination, the pillow is freed! She did it!
But... maybe she didn't think this through.
Without Anon's grip on the pillow to anchor her, the force she was using to pull sends the startled pegasus careening backwards. She unceremoniously smacks into the far wall, leaving a large pony-shaped indentation behind, and the vibrations from her impact send a nearby lamp teetering off the edge of Anon's dresser where it shatters into hundreds of pieces on the floor.
“Ow...”
The dazed pony shakes her head as she carefully attempts to stand. The first thing she notices when her vision stops swirling is the pillow laying on the floor. She trots over and stares at it for several seconds. The angry expression on her face slowly changes into a look of smug satisfaction as her triumph sinks in.
“Heh. Looks like I win, Mr. Pillow!”
She sticks out her tongue at it for good measure.
Ignoring her vanquished foe, she turns back toward the bed.
“S-Sorry about waking you up Anon, but I need to—”
More snoring from the human cuts her off, his now empty arms hanging from the bed's edge.
“N-No way! He's still asleep?! But... but...”
As she falls back on her haunches in shock, the sound of crumbling from behind her catches her ear. Curious, she turns around just in time to see a section of the damaged wall fall to the floor and mix with the shards of the shattered lamp, and her ears fold back as her heart sinks at the sight.
“Oh no...”
She's done it again.
Why?
Why does this always happen when she only wants to help? When she only wants to do the right thing?
“You can't do anything right, you dumb pony...”
Her head hangs low as she starts to sniffle and cry. She knows what'll come next. It's happened so many times before with so many others.
Anon's going to be so, so angry with her when he sees this. She'll try to explain, but it won't matter, and she can completely understand why. What good are her intentions when this is always the result? It'd be better if she hadn't tried at all!
If only she had listened to her conscience! If only she'd just delivered his mail and kept going when she found he wasn't outside! If only—
'You should live in reality, Derpy. It's for the best.'
She laughs in her grief. Yes, that's right. There's no point in thinking about 'what ifs'. They won't help her keep the precious friend she's so certain she's about to lose.
There's a yawn and a rustling of the sheets. Her golden eyes snap open, tears still spilling forth, to behold the human as he sits up and forces himself awake.
This is it. Even if it won't make any difference in the end, she should start apologizing! But for some reason, she can't bring herself to speak now. Any attempt to form a word in her throat comes out as a pathetic hiccup, and it only causes her to cry harder.
The confused human doesn't say a word. Instead, he takes stock of the strange scene as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.
He looks to the crying little mailmare.
He looks to her discarded mailbags in the corner.
He looks to the damaged wall and ruined lamp.
He looks to the clock on his dresser, noting the time and the alarm he forgot to set.
And slowly, he pieces it all together, and he knows exactly what happened.
This is it. Say something, Derpy! Anything! Just say something!
But nothing comes aside from the tears.
And then...
And then, like every other day, he gives her that same soft smile he always does.
Her heart nearly stops. She truly thought she'd never see that smile again after this. That special, amazing smile that sets him apart from everyone and everything in the world...
Because when he smiles at her, he looks her in the eyes and doesn't turn away. Not even Postmaster Crate or Carrot, two ponies who care dearly for her as a friend, can do that. Sure, they try, but they always look away, even if it's only slightly. She can tell, and though it's hurt her less and less over time, it still stings when she sees it.
But Anon... he doesn't turn away. Not even once. Not even a little.
Instead, he smiles at her and holds out his arms, and in an instant she's leapt from the floor into his embrace, and she knows she's forgiven.
She knows she's accepted, despite all her faults.
Her tears flow without end, even as her sorrow turns to joy.
“Anon... Anon... I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!”
He calms her in his arms, holding her tight and petting her mane like he always does, and she smiles with delight.
It looks like she got her hug today after all. One of her eyes shifts to the pillow on the floor, and she sticks her tongue out at it once again before curling even further into her special human, enjoying yet another perfect moment that somehow came to be.
'You should live in reality, Derpy. It's for the best.'
She repeats the nagging words to herself in her head. Despite how annoying they are, they're still true.
The reality is... her feelings for him aren't going to change. Denying them won't help. She needs to face them, to confront them, and to stop trying to run away.
At the same time, she needs to honor her responsibilities as a mailmare. She owes it to the ponies on her route, and she owes it to Postmaster Crate. No more flying off to daydream in the afternoons about what might be, Derpy.
She knows what she has to do. Yet, she also knows... she knows that she won't have the courage to ask him now.
But she'll work hard. She'll work hard, and find that courage soon.
There's always tomorrow...
She looks up, and he carefully wipes the remaining tears from her eyes.
There's always tomorrow. For today, the mail must still go through...
The little pony sighs and smiles softly, the ear placed upon his chest listening to his steady heartbeat.
...But just once more, it's gonna be a little late.
