It all started last year, nearing the end of February.
It had only been a few months since I had moved into my own little cottage in my hometown of Ponyville. The cottage was a fair size, but it had a large attic big enough to house an Ursa Minor in. I got to thinking that since I would never really have use for that much space above my head, maybe I could offer it to other ponies who needed a place to store their stuff? After all, spring was very close by, and a lot of ponies sometimes underwent a clearing out of their homes during that time, so I figured it offered me the opportunity to make a few bits and help other ponies out at the same time.
I had a few customers who came to make use of my services, but there was this one stallion in particular who got my interest. He was an earth pony named Story Plot, and he was quite a handsome guy if I may say so. He had a nice turquoise coat, and an even nicer pair of bright, kind silver eyes. He was a story writer, at least so I gathered from his cutie mark when we first met, an image of a book and golden-feathered quill.
He pulled up outside my cottage, dragging a battered wooden cart behind him. I opened the door before he even unhitched himself from his cart, which I then noticed had about a dozen boxes stack in it. As he walked up the garden path, I blushed as he gave me a warm friendly smile, offering his hoof out to me.
"Hello there. My name is Story Plot," he introduced himself as I shook his hoof. "I'm here about the storage service?"
"I'm Twist," I replied. I'm so glad my lisp went away as I grew up, otherwise I don't think I would have said a word to him. I couldn't imagine embarrassing myself in front of a stallion like him. "Please come on inside. I'll show you where your things will be kept."
He came into my home and I showed him the attic. He seemed happy with the space, of which there was plenty since very few other ponies were in need of my public services. "Yes, this will do nicely," he said after examining the loft. "So, shall I fetch my things in now?"
I shook my head. "Oh, there's no need. I can bring them inside, no problem," I replied.
However he was insistent that he at least helped me with the task, so in the end we worked to bring in the boxes from the cart, placing them in a nice spot in the attic. A few of his boxes contained mostly papers and books, probably something to do with his writing works, I assumed. I didn't bother to see what the others contained. Admittedly, I was distracted by the stretch and flex of his strong body muscles as he pulled some of the heavier cargo from the cart with ease. I wouldn't have carried them by myself, so I was grateful he offered his assistance in the end.
"So, it's two bits per box in your care, right?", he asked me when we brought the last box in. I nodded, and Story produced a small bag of bits. "There's a little extra in there for you. As my way of saying thank you," he said when I asked him about the extra money. Before he left my home, he hesitated at the door, turning around and asking me, "You wouldn't mind if I brought some more boxes around later in the week, would you? i'm having a very big clear-out of my home and I really could use the space you have if it's alright?"
If it meant seeing him around again, I was happy to let him. So I nodded. "Yes. Of course you can."
I was delighted to find Story Plot appearing on my doorstep almost every day onward, bringing with him a few more cardboard boxes with him. Sometimes he let me help him carry them inside and put them into the attic with his other boxes, and other times he strongly insisted he brought them in himself. Over time, he and I began to engage in conversation with each visit, and soon we would be sitting down at my kitchen table, trading little stories from our pasts with each other as we sipped our coffee happily.
Needless to say, I began to grow attracted to him. He was so nice and friendly, and I couldn't help but smile when I was with him. But as much as I liked him, I tried to kid myself that it was the bits he was paying me for looking after his belongings that I was interested in, though it wasn't the truth. I mean, there was no way a handsome stallion like him would ever be interested in a silly mare like me.
And then something peculiar began to happen. He soon turned up on my doorstep carrying just a single cardboard box with him, but he was always strongly insistent that he took it up to the attic by himself, outright refusing my help. At the same time, I began to wonder just hen he would be coming to collect his belongings, since by this point he had been storing his possession in my attic for nearly two months since day one.
One day, I decided to confront him about the matter. After he came by to drop off yet another single cardboard box, I stopped him before he left my house. I turned him around to face me, and I asked him seriously, "When are you going to come and collect all of your things, Story? If you keep bringing more boxes around I'll have nowhere else to put them at this rate."
He smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "Well, I probably should have told you sooner, Twist. I've actually been meeting a mare who I've grown very fond of."
My heart instantly felt like it was going to shatter into a million fragile pieces, but I kept my composure despite that I felt like I was dying inside. "Oh...I see...so all these boxes...?"
"I've been keeping them for her while we sorted things out," he answered. "It really means a lot that you've let me use your attic, Twist. Which reminds me. Would you mind if I brought just one more box here tomorrow? I promise it'll be the last one."
As much as I wanted to tell him to take all of his boxes and leave me alone, I knew I had nothing to fault him for. If I had only spoken up sooner, maybe I might have had a chance. So I nodded my head weakly. "Sure. Of course you can."
That night, I did my best to hold back the sobs I otherwise wanted to let out so much.
When the next day came, I waited patiently for Story Plot to arrive, but he didn't show up at his usual time. I waited for another half an hour before I grew bored of waiting for him. I suddenly thought about who the lucky mare was to have won him, and what she might have been like. I remembered the boxes he had brought to my attic, and though I knew it was rude and impolite to do so, I couldn't help but sneak up into my loft to take a look at her possessions, just to see what sort of pony the lucky mare was.
Imagine my surprise and utmost confusion when I opened 'her' boxes and found them all empty! And not just this supposed 'lucky mare's' boxes, but some of his own too! Only the original dozen boxes he had stored in my attic the first day we met had things in them, but the rest had nothing but air.
I was puzzled greatly by this discovery. Why would he want to store empty cardboard boxes in my attic and pay me to look after them?
I heard a knock at my front door, and when I raced down from the attic to see who it was, I was greeted by the handsome face of Story Plot. But this time he came dressed very smartly in a black suit with a flower pinned to his chest, as if he was going out on a date. But if he was, then who was he going out with if he had been lying about the mare he had been seeing?
I was about to question him on the matter, when he produced a small shoe box and handed it over to me. To my surprise, it had a label that specified it was for me. Removing the lid, I was shocked and astonished to find several beautiful fresh red roses, and a card inside.
With trembling hooves and a thumping heart, I read the card aloud. "'To the special somepony I admire, please come to dinner with me tonight. Love, Story Plot..."
That evening, Story Plot and I were sat at a candle-lit table in an amazing restaurant in Canterlot, surrounded by the sound of beautiful orchestral music. We gazed at each other as we held the other's hooves in our own.
"Why did you keep bringing empty boxes to my attic?" I finally asked him, although by now I figured I knew what his answer was going to be.
He smiled and gave me a wink that made my cheeks blush a rosy red. "Because I needed a reason to keep coming back to see you until I found the courage to ask you on a date," he replied.
I decided to let him keep his boxes in my attic for as long as he wanted. Free of charge.
