As the sun set, the dark wooded coffin was placed into the cold ground, surrounded by both friends and family, either weeping or stone-faced. He watched as they buried the casket, eyes cold and harsh as winter winds. He sat silently, along with the others, as the last bit of earth was placed over the coffin. Stealing one more glace, he floated slowly away, leaving his friends and family to mourn his death themselves. He floats over Ponyville, through the fluffy clouds where his little sister loves to nap and play. Floating further along this path of memories, he passes the Dress Maker's shop, where his mother glanced at the expensive dresses she knew she could never afford. The Wanderer's Hill lies still and strong beneath him as he glides along, remembering the nights when he would gaze at the stars and think, about how life changed and twisted, about how things die, how things are born. How people grow old and long for youth, while the young long for maturity in the crazy world. He floated above the library, the grocery, Market Square, the Old School House, and so much more. He'd spent the past twenty years in this town, and no matter what he did, no affection that once had been returned, and no new affection arrived. He could only hopelessly think with the stars, and stare at yearned-for items, and watch young ones play and elderly ones relax in their final days, weeks, months, years......... It was all so confusing, but was the only option. Live, Love, Die, and so on, until Time stops, the world ends, or we find another way of things. He could only distantly remember Affection, and even that was becoming a fuzzy blur....... If only........ Yes, that was it, he'd do what he could to create affection, if not his own, and move on to..... well, whatever came after death. He'd need to find a young pair of ponies who needed just that one spark to kindle a relationship, or an older couple in need of re-kindling. He scanned the countryside, looking for somepony, anypony, that could help. Trees, no, small fillies, no, an elderly mare out for a stroll, no............ Just then, he spotted two young adults who looked about 20 sitting on Wanderer's Hill, star gazing. Floating down to them, he began to make out a brown earth pony stallion with a spikey brown mane and exited blue eyes. He also say a smaller mare, a grey pegasus, with a silky gold mane and misaligned eyes of the same color. They were chatting happily, seeming to be best friends. He wondered if anything could be done. 'Time Turner', as the mare called him, chatted happily about something to do with adventures in his Trottingham accent, while the mare calmly listened.
