Chasing after her, Striking Flash cried out, “Velvet Rose, wait! I didn’t mean it!”
For a split second, Velvet looked back at him, grief staring at its cause. During that moment, Striking couldn’t help but stop, watching as the love of his life left because of him.
Authors Note lifted his wing away from his journal. He pushed his chair away from the desk he’d been writing on and stepped off it. He yawned as he stretched in the dim light provided by a lone candle. Exhausted from the day’s work, he peeked outside and spotted the moon high in the sky; in its usual place before he settled for the night.
Note turned back to his desk and picked up his ink pot. The small triangular container carried the black ink which he used to write all of the stories and notes in his personal journal. He capped it and set it back down before he put out the candle and trotted over to the other side of his small apartment and into the kitchen section.
He turned the faucet handle and ran his right wing under the water. Black ink ran off the tip of his longest primary feather. Despite the washing, the tip of his light gray feather was stained black from its constant usage as a quill. After turning off the faucet, he grabbed a nearby towel with his hooves and dried off his wing.
His wings retracted as he folded the towel and placed it back on the counter. He stepped out of the kitchen and through a small hallway into his bedroom. The room was barely lit by the moonlight through a small window on the far side. Between him and the window was a queen-sized bed.
Note climbed on top the bed and plopped himself down. Laying on his side, his head rested against one of his pillows as he grabbed another and held it to his chest. His forelegs wrapped around it as he would if another pony had laid with him for the night.
A sickening pit of loneliness and regret rose in his mind as he settled for the night.
Thirsty.
Note’s eyes flicked open. The previous darkness of his room was gone, instead replaced by sunlight which lit up his room as it had every morning before. Pushing his upper body up, he yawned as his back popped. For him, his room was still a blurry mess as his eyes adjusted.
Flipping himself off his bed, he stumbled out of his room and into the bathroom on the other end of the hallway. He splashed water onto his mahogany-colored hair over the sink to wet it. Looking up and into the mirror, blue irises looked back at him. He practiced a quick smile before laughing and shaking his head softly at his own musings. After drying off his hair with a towel and combing it down, he left the bathroom and entered the kitchen to prepare himself a glass of water.
After relieving his thirst, he trotted to his desk and packed his journal and his inkpot into a small bag which fit snug around his neck and one of his shoulders. It laid like a saddle bag but instead rested on one of his front legs.
After throwing it on over his right shoulder, Note carried himself down the stairs of his apartment and out the door, locking it behind him. Glancing at his surroundings, small numbers of ponies traveled alongside the sidewalks of his apartment complex. The streets were void of carriages minus one or two.
He followed the sidewalk as it led the way out of his complex. Peering around, he stuck on the right side of the sidewalk as to avoid getting in anyone’s way who'd walk towards him.
Spotting two young mares jogging on the other side of the street, he watched them for a few seconds before he turned his head to look at a young couple strolling about with their newborn foal.
A pang of jealousy hit him, Hm- I remember Dad always telling me about how he’d go out ‘pony watching’ but I didn’t think I’d actually do it myself.
He turned his gaze away from the couple and back onto the tiled sidewalk in front of him.
Out of sight, out of mind.
Though... I’d rather be one of the ponies being watched. They all just seem so… social.
Note stopped and turned at an intersection. After he passed a local grocery store, he stopped in front of a small building. If he hadn’t seen the thin brick structures between each window and the roof overhead, he would’ve sworn that the entire front half was made of just glass windows; the majority of which being fairly clean.
A dull, red sign sat mounted upon the front of the building’s roof: River’s Cafe.
Well- It’s a start. Better to get out every once in a while then stay cooped up in my apartment.
Note entered the small cafe, at the entrance, a beige unicorn mare with a ponytail whose color reminded him much of chocolate stood behind a podium. Her emerald eyes met his as she greeted him with a smile, “Welcome to River’s Cafe! Table for one?”
Returning her smile with a small one of his own, he replied, “Yes, please.”
The mare picked up a menu with her magic, “Alright, follow me, sir!”
He followed her past the podium as she led him through the center of the cafe and to the far wall. The cafe itself contained only a dozen booths; however, only a little less than half of them were filled in the early afternoon.
She stopped in front of an empty booth that would have been centered in the cafe had it not been placed against the wall. She placed the menu down on the table and told him, “Your server will be with you in a second, enjoy your meal!”
She seems to be quite giddy!
Note nodded in response as he took off his bag and set it on the table before sitting down. He opened the clasp of his bag and pulled out both his inkpot and journal and set them in front of him. Unfurling his wings, he reached forward with his hooves and uncapped the inkpot before setting it down to the right of his journal.
Just as he finished, another mare, this time a pegasus, approached his booth. She wore a small pouch on her side which carried a notepad and a pen. Surprisingly enough, her cutie mark was also a notepad, despite the number of waitresses working, very few found it as a permanent career.
She used a hoof to pull out the notepad and she gripped the pen with one of her wings. She lifted it up and brought the tip to the surface of the notepad.
“Good morning, I’m Feather Joy, your server for th- oh, hey it’s you. Welcome back!”
A moment of confusion hit Note as to how Feather Joy recognized him as he’d only been to this particular cafe one time before and that had been two days ago when he’d first decided to get out more.
He had hardly recognized her as she flicked her velvet bangs to the side, so her recognition of him was quite surprising to him.
“So, are you ready to order?” she asked.
Note glanced at the cover of the menu before picking it up with a hoof and handing it to her, “Yup. Just a cup of coffee is fine.”
She gave him a knowing grin, “It’s basically a necessity for me! Anyways, it’ll be out in a few minutes; we have to brew a new batch.”
He chuckled, “Alright, sounds good to me.”
He turned his attention back to his journal as she walked away. Flipping to the page he had been working on the night before, he dipped his primary into the inkpot and continued his work.
In a field adorned by vibrant flowers, Striking Flash stood alone. He had no plans other than to stay and watch as the sun fell. The frown on his face eased as he took pleasure in the mere observance of the majestic painting that is nature. It was almost as if it was created solely for him; to cheer him up after the day’s events.
“Striking…?” a soft voice prodded his attention.
Striking turned around and spotted the only mare tha
Note’s body lurched and his wings, the right of which he had been using to write, expanded to their full wingspan. He lifted his head up to see the waitress which had been delivering his coffee. The cup she held had a few drops of coffee running down the side as well as a couple drops of ink that had landed on and stained her white coat.
Note ducked his head down as he realized all of the noise in the cafe stopped. He accepted the coffee from the young mare with a hoof as his wings returned to his side; however, one still had an ink-covered feather.
With blushed cheeks, he whispered, “Sorry! I zoned out fo-”
The mare interrupted his apology, “It’s fine, really. It’s nothing a quick wash can’t get out!”
Note sat still as he finally took notice of her eyes. Her light blue eyes seemingly froze all of his thoughts. Her hair, a slightly darker shade of blue than her eyes, flowed down the back of her neck, stopping just below her shoulders.
“-s there anything else I can get you?”
Not sure how long he’d been staring, Note turned gaze over to the story he’d been writing before glancing back and replying, “No- No, I’m fine. Thank you for asking though.”
The mare gave him a small smile as she spoke, “Again, sorry for startling you… may I know your name?”
Nervous and unsure of her intentions, he put on his best smile and said, “Authors Note. But my friends just call me Note.”
She nodded and turned away to leave, but she quickly turned back to face him. Her cheeks were tinged pink and she was smiling profusely.
“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you my name! I’m Crystal Heart, but you can just call me Crystal.”
Before he could reply, Crystal Heart turned back and shuffled away, her head bent down slightly, hiding her face from his view.
Authors Note, embarrassed at the scene he had created as well as accidentally staining the mare’s white coat with ink, he sealed his inkwell with its top and stashed all of his things into his bag that laid beside him.
He pulled a few bits from his bag, a few more than the coffee had cost, and placed them on the table. He quickly downed his coffee before he threw the sack over his neck and around his right shoulder. He walked up to the cafe door before turning his head back towards the server’s area.
Authors Note saw that Crystal Heart was talking to another mare near the door of the kitchen. Taking note of her appearance, he noticed she hadn’t yet attempted to clean the ink off her coat.
She seems… embarrassed? No, that must not be right. She must be complaining about ‘that stallion’ who flicked ink onto her coat.
He turned back to face the door and left the cafe in a rush. Heading back to his apartment, he resolved to not visit the cafe again until later in the week in the hopes that the event would be forgotten by the time he came back again for a morning drink.
So much for going out.
