Life and Death

It feels...kind of nice sleeping next to a living breathing thing. Her breaths are soothing and lull me to sleep in a sweet rhythm. When I wake up the next morning, though, the bed is empty, save for stuffed animals.

        I start to worry. Did Toola just flat-out leave? Was she freaked out by me? Or was this...all a dream?

My mini panic attack dissipates as a light pink face pops up from the side of the bed.

"Morning!"

"Speaking of which..." I rub my eyes, "what morning is it?"

"It's about 5:30 am on Monday."

"Oh, SHOOT!" I throw the covers off me. "I have school!"

Toola looks confused, but still catches up in the chase. "I'll make breakfast."

"Thanks, Toola." I collect my homework laying around the house and stuff it away in my binder. I get dressed (Toola accidentally catches an eyeful of my exposed chest, whoops), pack my lunch, and settle in the kitchen for the breakfast Toola made me.

The plate contains scrambled eggs cut in a heart shape with syrup slathered all over it and a sausage border.

"Heh, this is cute," I praise. Toola grins.

I hear feet clomping downstairs. Uh oh.

"Hey, Feather, are you down here? When are we going to that Mexican restaur—" Katie stops midsentence as she lays eyes on the pink pony artist in front of her. "Who is that?"

"This is Toola Roola," I say. "She stayed over the night."

"Oh." Katie eyes us both carefully, as if we were hiding something.

Toola and I share a glance, then look away quickly.

"Ah-ha." Katie casually takes a sausage from my plate. "You like each other."

The fur covering Toola's faces deepens from its natural shade.

My roommate, thankfully, doesn't press on. We quickly masticate the dish Toola made, and settle down to watch TV.

"The Today Show is on at seven," I say, reading the TV guide.

Katie nods, glancing at the clock on the TV box.

"Um, when does this 'school' start?" Toola asks, voice cracking at the word "school". Man, I've always been a sucker for that.

"At, like, eight." I head to the pantry for a little bag of potato chips.

"Then why'd you get up at 5:30?" She inquires, looking for her shoulder at the oven clock. It reads 5:58.

"I dunno. I just like getting up early to have my own time." I take a few of the salty delights and crunch on them noisily.

Toola cocks her head adorably. Her mane falls perfectly without her trying.

I suck in a breath to stop myself from saying something stupid like, "You must use a shiny shampoo..."

My mind automatically goes to work creating mental images of Toola Roola showering. Oh my. Nosebleed Central.

"So, what goes on for you in Ponyville, Toola?" Katie asks, trying to induce conversation.

"Oh, the usual, painting pictures and pottery for around the house, walking down the cobblestone path to look at the lake, mares sneaking glances at my flank when they think I'm not looking..."

I cough, spewing a few crumbs everywhere. Toola catches my eye and winks.

"Well, then." Katie leans back against the couch. "It seems like you're popular."

She giggles at this. It's a very nice laugh; the usual crackly appearance makes it sound like a river flowing on rocks.

I close the pantry door and kind of lean against it on my shoulder. I imagine myself lightly grazing her body; ticking her belly, rubbing her arms, and caressing the wet outer folds of her—

Whoa. Feather. Geez. Mind out of the gutter already.

Toola heads back into the kitchen, probably to get some grub. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts, and walk to the couch in a love-stricken daze. Katie elbows me disapprovingly, then suddenly turns around and suffers a coughing fit. I pound her back, and she hacks a few times then rises back up.

"Geez, what the heck is the matter with you?" I ask.

She wheezes. "I-I don't know." She clears her throat. "There, I think I'm better now."

"Rooly, fetch her some water," I call out. Toola emerges a few seconds later with a can of La Croix.

The clock hits 6:03, and I stand up. "Well, I think I'm going to take a walk around the block, just to awaken my senses more." I walk over to the coat rack and grab my jacket.

"Oh, I'll come with you," Toola suggests, "but I have to get some clothes first." She races up the stairs.

"Katie," I add, "You wanna come too?"

”No," she states plainly. "I wouldn't want to interrupt your date."

"Hey!" I get all defensive. "Toola and I barely know each other, mind you!"

"Well, you know this much." Katie forms her hands to look like heads with mouths and presses them together, making kissing noises.

Grr.

Toola Roola clops back down the stairs, wearing a hat, scarf, and vest.

We head out the door into the crisp fall weather. Leaves crunch under our feet and and a nice breeze blows our hair lightly to one side.

        "Feather," Toola starts warily. "I don't think Katie's all right."