Lilyby KitsuneRisuChaptersTimePlaceReasonsTime Be gentle with them, the recently born, Their first days here with us are filled with forlorn A blanket of myth is a treasure bequeathed ‘Fore the truth of the world exposes its teeth Lily pulled her head off the table when the clock’s second-hand reached the 60-second position, except that the position was also the zero-second position and the number 12 at the same time. This had always confused Lily; there was something about time being something else that didn’t quite make sense to her, and when time had to be another time altogether it was just doubly frustrating. Lily allowed her eyes to linger over the black second-hand of the clock for a single moment, perhaps two, perhaps three, before the hand moved on and raced around the crimson track yet again, ready to meet her at the top fifty-nine seconds later. “Quickly,” Lily said, desperately. “I have fifty-seven seconds.” “For what?” Daisy asked, as she sat by Lily’s side, staring at the clock alongside her friend. “To consider.” “Consider what?” “Fifty-two seconds, now.” “Tell me,” Daisy said. “What do you wish to speak about? Lily waited for the clock to tick to fifteen, or perhaps three, depending on one’s point of view. That left a good forty-five seconds left for her to ask her question. “There are sixty seconds in every minute, and sixty minutes in every hour,” Lily said slowly, to make sure her friend could keep up. “If a minute were a second, what would an hour be?” Daisy took a further six seconds to think of a response. “Well, it would be a minute, wouldn’t it?” “Correct,” Lily said. “And if an hour were a minute, what would a day be?” Daisy waited for twelve seconds more. “Well,” Daisy said. “I don’t know.” “That’s the correct answer.” Lily nodded. The minute hand hit North. “I would have also accepted ‘three days less a bit’,” Lily added. “Three days less a bit?” Daisy looked out of the corner of her eyes to her friend, who was still keeping watch on the clock like a hawk espied a dinner turtle. “That’s how long we’ve been waiting,” Lily said. “That’s how long it’s been,” Daisy added. “How long more?” Lily asked, eyebrows sloping. “I don’t know. I can’t say.” Daisy shrugged. “Then go get her,” Lily demanded. “I don’t know how to reach her,” Daisy admitted. “Then… go to the shops.” Lily threw herself to her hooves all of a sudden, taking a look around her, allowing the rest of the world to come into view. It was their store, the shop shared by sisters three, a boutique of flowers where pots of plants lined the beautiful bay windows and crammed themselves into every corner, a place where one could not traverse the buffed wooden floors without tripping over a bush or perennial. All over the columns were hung a variety of orchids, and over there, in the far corner, were the expensive things, like the hybrid roses and crocuses, earning their weight in gold for those privileged enough to purchase them. There was a bar, as well, a place where one might partake in the eating of colours, a healthy lifestyle endorsed by the owners, in which one could indulge in a variety of seasonal vegetables and flowers of various shades, blended and pureed into interesting drinks and tasty concoctions. The colours were good for a multitude of purposes, according to Lily, and helped with various functions. One need not eat a carrot for the eyes, when any orange-shaded plant would do. But it was always carrots when it came to the salad. Lily remembered a time when there was a patron. He came in with a great smile on his face and left nearly immediately after his quick lunch. The salad agreed with him greatly, and he promised to tell all his friends about it. It had been a wonderful day. This was the flower shop. Lily swung around, pointing a hoof at Daisy. “Go to the store, I said. Need I remind you?” “You looked busy.” Daisy tilted her head. “You looked deep in thought.” “I am rarely, if ever, deep in thought,” Lily responded. “I think lightly, like the bubbles on a glass of frothy milk.” “The froth, you mean.” “What?” “The bubbles on a glass of frothy milk is otherwise just known as the froth.” “Yes. I am the froth. Does this explain your action of inaction?” “I didn’t want to interrupt.” “You are a good sister.” Lily nodded in recognition. “But good sisters also go to the store.” “What shall I do there?” “You are to buy one Rose and return her back here to the shop.” “Friends can’t be bought at the store.” Daisy raised an eyebrow. “We’ve spoken about this before.” “Maybe you can check again! There’s always things we miss! Remember last week, when we needed pickles, and we didn’t find a pickle aisle, but we went back again and there was actually a whole section of pickled everythings?” “Yes, I remember.” “And Rose still hadn’t come back by then! How long had it been?” “Three days less a bit,” Daisy said softly. “Yeah.” Lily nodded. “Yeah. That’s right.” Lily rubbed her chin with a hoof, her tail waving in the still air of the shop. “Could you go get me something else instead?” Lily asked. “Sure, Lily. What would you like?” “Anything. Whole big box of anythings.” “Alright, Lily.” The hour hand reached a tick past North. Lily was left alone. Rose had been gone for three days less a bit. They had been waiting earnestly for her triumphant return. It would have been good to have the ability to travel through time. Perhaps then, she could go back in time to talk to Rose before she left and tell her to return sooner. Or perhaps she could go forward in time to when Rose had already returned in order to meet her then. But the latter idea wasn’t so good, since in that case, Rose would have to wait for them, and the sheer thought of it sent an odd crushing sensation to Lily’s chest, like a vise squeezing out the last ounce of juice from an unfortunate carnation. No, it would be no good to have anyone wait for her. Waiting should be avoided, and in this case, she would much rather be the waiter than the waitee. There were never any good waiters. Except of course, the sorts at restaurants, perhaps, because they got you your food and drinks and told you you had to leave if you stayed two hours past last order. Those were the good kind, unless they were rather rude, in which case they were merely the acceptable kind. But having to make others wait for anything at all was definitely unacceptable. Lily’s carnation told her so. “Here,” Daisy said, placing a paper bag up on the counter. “Oh, you’re back already,” Lily exclaimed. “All within the moment of a thought.” “Yes,” Daisy replied. “Sometimes time flies when we’re in consideration. Have you thought of much?” “I have been thinking of time, and how much I would love to be a time traveller,” Lily replied. “And by the time I had finished my thought, you had returned.” “I’ve been all the way to the shops and back. Surely it’s not been that soon?” “It has been rather soon.” Lily nodded. “Well… how much time has passed?” Daisy asked, gesturing to the clock. Lily turned to stare at the hands that went tick, tock, and sometimes tock, tick. The long hand pointed West. “It has been forty-two minutes and some seconds,” Lily determined. “As I expected.” “Did you?” “I have very long thoughts,” Lily said. “It’s only expected that it would take forty-two minutes and some seconds.” “Well, I did as you asked,” Daisy gestured to the brown paper bag. “I have bought you a box of anythings.” “What did you get?” Lily slid the bag towards herself. “What it was you were looking for.” “Rose?” “Within reason.” “Ah. Then, of course it’s…” Daisy nodded. “It’s…” Lily muttered, hoof over the bag. “Yes?” “What was it I was looking for?” “Have a look. I don’t know. I simply bought it and brought it here.” Daisy gestured. “Fine, then! You’re quite fun, you realise, withholding information like this!” “Quite fun?” Daisy tilted her head. “Yes, indeed. After all, giving things away early would simply spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it? You’ve played your part remarkably.” Without a moment more, Lily tore at the bag, peeling the sides away like layers of an onion. The brown shavings fluttered to the floor like dead, wilted leaves, where they lay in need of a sweeping away. “It’s a box.” Lily said. “That’s what it is. You did ask for a box, did you not?” “Yes, quite so. A box of anythings. A box… like this. One finely carved in wood. One longer than it is wide. One with two lids on the top. It’s exactly as I asked for.” “I’m glad, then.” Lily pushed at one of the lids, and then the other. “I can’t open it.” “Well, you said you wanted a box. You didn’t say you wanted what was in the box.” “That’s true. You’re wise, Daisy.” Lily left it alone. The box lay on the desk, happy and content. Lily lay her head on the countertop sideways, staring at her new acquisition. “Say, Daisy?” “Yes?” “Do you think the box will ever open? There are no keyholes, nor latches. There is nothing that is keeping these two lids from sliding off. And this is not a trick-box. I would know. I have played with a number of trick-boxes before, and they always have a thing about them. This one has no thing about it. It simply will not open. Will it ever open, do you think?” “Maybe.” “Why won’t it open now?” “I couldn’t say. Perhaps it is just that you want the outside more than you want the inside.” “Ah, yes, of course.” Lily rose back up off the table. “It is a nice box. There is nothing much else to say about it. It is nice and I love it. It is fine, as a box, and I am content with it, as a box. So, should it be anything more?” “It doesn’t have to be. Maybe it never will.” “Then… then!” Lily declared, putting up her hoof. “I will leave it to the box.” “That would be for the best.” “It will be the box’s decision.” Lily lifted the box with both forelegs, hoisting it up above her head like it were a small child. “Yes.” “I shall name him… Oakley.” “Is it made of oak?” “It is pine. I can tell. I work in a flower shop.” Lily swept her hoof around to elaborate. “A fitting name.” “Oakley will stand in for Rose while we wait for her.” Daisy smiled. It was a smile that was trying very hard to be as warm as it could be. “Do you know what I thought of? Just now,” Lily said, placing Oakley back onto the bar counter. “What?” “We are time travellers. All of us.” “Are we?” “Yes. We are all constantly moving forward in time at a rate of one second per second. All of us. Together.” “Ah… well. Maybe.” Daisy nodded. “Do you counter my proposition?” “It all depends on who is moving through time,” Daisy said. “Then, all we have to do is keep travelling forward in time until we meet Rose again. And then she won’t have to wait for us.” “That sounds like an idea.” “It’s a perfect idea.” “Yes.” Lily waited. “Do you suppose she’ll be back soon?” Lily asked. “I don’t think so, I’m afraid.” Daisy responded. Lily waited. “She will, won’t she? I’d very much like to show her Oakley.” “She would very much like to meet him, if she could.” Lily waited. “How long has it been, do you think, since Rose left?” “Three hours less a bit.” “Of course.” Lily waited. PlaceLight appeared in the shop as Lily opened her eyes. It was daytime now, but night a moment before. She sat at the countertop to her shop — the one that had the register and the good, thoughtful placement and the small basket of assorted florals sitting as a sort of last-minute purchase encouragement for customers. Lily sat there because she wanted to be there, and she sat there in the day because sitting there at nighttime would be rather silly indeed, for only did two customers ever come at night before and one of them didn’t want to buy anything because he was hiding from the bull-snarts and it was quite possible that he had a bit too much of Auntie Mildred’s Elderberry Wine because that was what he eventually threw up all over the dandelions. The other customer bought a bouquet of flowers for his wife’s birthday that was that same day and Lily really hoped that it went alright. The dandelions were doing quite well that morning. Daisy was there, but then again, she always had been for as long as the shop was there around her. The bell on the front door jingled to signify the approach of a new customer. Lily nodded her head in approval. The day, it seemed, was off to a fantastic start. “That went well,” Lily said to Daisy, who stood, as she always did, by the side and never at the front. “It did. How do you feel about that?” Daisy asked. “I feel…” Lily thought. “I feel, I feel like it is a great day. Um…” “Something on your mind?” “How can one tell if a day is great?” “How is it a great day for you?” Daisy asked. “Well. You see,” Lily said, “it’s quite chilly, and we are in our store. The bell rung, and everything is fine except for the fact that where is Rose?” “She’s not here, that’s for sure,” Daisy said. “Where do you think she is?” “I see. You’re doing that thing with the questions,” Lily said. “Perhaps the day isn’t so great after all!” “What thing with the questions?” “Where you respond to my questions with a question. You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Lily pouted. “I’m not sure I like it very much.” Daisy nodded to herself, glancing sideways. “I know. But to be fair, I only ask the questions because I can’t give the answers.” “Hm,” Lily considered, stroking her chin. “That’s true. I suppose you have a good, fine point. What was it you were asking me?” “Where do you think Rose is?” “Not here.” “That seems like an answer that we have,” Daisy said. “Indeed,” Lily agreed. “But where is she?” “Where do you think Rose is?” “Not here.” “Alright, ask me again one more time,” Daisy said. “Why?” “Because I’m hoping you will have a different answer,” Daisy explained. “But wouldn’t that require a different question?” “Ask me again,” Daisy said, “and we’ll see.” Lily thought about it for a while. It seemed reasonable for a question to have many different answers. After all, things never stayed the same, and nothing was forever. “Forever is alone,” Lily said. “Pardon me?” Daisy asked. “You see, nothing is forever except for forever and nothing, which is also forever. Forever would like for everything to be forever, but it’s only nothing that is. And since everything except for forever and nothing is not forever, forever only has nothing to be forever with. And since nothing is nothing, and forever is not nothing, then nothing is a forever that is not there, and thusly forever is still alone even though nothing is also forever.” “And what does that tell you?” Daisy asked. “That being more of something can also be less of something.” “Exactly so,” Daisy said. “For example, this shop.” Lily motioned to the corners. “There are more questions, but less answers. If you put it together…” Daisy listened intently. “Where is Rose?” Lily asked. “I feel that is more answer and less question.” “I suppose so,” Daisy agreed. “Sometimes knowing the answer to one thing is also knowing the answer to a great many things.” “Weren’t you supposed to say ‘Where do I think she is’?” Lily asked. “Did you want me to?” “Perhaps later,” Lily said. Lily waited. “She’s not in this store,” Lily said, as she looked around. “She’s not quite here.” “Why do you think this?” Daisy said, her ears perking forward. “Huh.” Lily responded, as she stared into the shadows. The shadows stared back. Lily glanced at the dust dancing around in the shafts of light that hit the hydrangeas. They were perfectly so, and the hydrangeas perfectly watered. Insects had been munching on a few leaves here and there as she thought they would, and not on the leaves that she thought they wouldn’t. For a second, Lily felt her heart thump. Once. Perfectly. The air was stilled. “Huh.” Lily repeated. “Where are we?” It was a simple question, an honest question — as honest as questions can get given the limitations of scope that one pony has for the universe. The answer was equally honest. “We are here,” Daisy replied. “But where is here?” Lily tramped her hoof onto the floor. “Where we’ve come.” “A-ha!” Lily proclaimed, sticking a hoof upward. “I’ve caught you!” Daisy tilted her head. “You see,” Lily continued, “If we have come to someplace, that means we have come from someplace, correct?” “Yes, that would be the conventional wisdom,” Daisy replied. “That means there’s more to this place than the shop,” Lily said, sweeping her hoof throughout the air. “More than these shelves and this floor and the musty air which is surprisingly fresh given I haven’t opened a window in more than three days and also more than those windows as well.” “The windows don’t open, anyway,” Daisy said, looking toward them. “They’re the sort that don’t open.” “They used to.” “Yes.” “Just like we used to be somewhere and then came here.” “It’s the store,” Daisy said, matter-of-factly. “And where were we four days ago?” “The store.” “So!” Lily stated, pushing a cactus into place. “We’ve come from the store to the store.” “That is… correct.” Daisy nodded. “But it’s different.” “How so?” Lily motioned to the cactus, glad that she set one up beforehand. “Consider this fine specimen. Parodia Mammulosa. The lemon ball cactus. It feels right.” The cactus sat on the table in all its splendour, shining forth brightly as a beacon and champion of its kind. “It’s rather spiky looking,” Daisy commented. “But if one were to yank out all its spinkies,” Lily said, mimicking the act of a deranged pony yanking out all the spinkies of a lemon ball cactus, “then it would still be a cactus, but it would not feel the same.” “It would feel rather more comfortable, wouldn’t it?” “Exactly!” Lily said, smashing her hoof onto the cactus in desperate fervour. “It would be!” “Are you saying this shop feels more comfortable?” “I’m saying…” Lily muttered, yanking out all the spinkies from her hoof, “it feels too comfortable. It feels like the store, and looks like the store, but it doesn’t have pointy bits. It doesn’t have bite, and it doesn’t have teeth. Do you know why?” “I can’t answer that,” Daisy said. Humming to herself, Lily started to line up the needles on the desk, all in a row. They were all the same length, all had a slightly yellow smell and a musty flavour, much like a small box filled with nails. “This is why,” Lily said, displaying her finished work. “Looks good,” Daisy said. Lily shook her hoof at the needles, her mane bobbing as her body shook to the rhythm of her leg dancing through the air. “See… see… there’s something quite wrong about these spines. There’s something quite, quite off about them and I just can’t tell what. And I can’t describe it.” “Why can’t you describe it?” Daisy asked. “Because someone has stolen my words.” Lily declared. “Stolen it, like someone has stolen the spines off this cactus. Who would do such a thing?” “Not many ponies come to this store,” Daisy said. “Not many ponies!” Lily echoed. “Not many! Just myself, and you, and Rose.” Lily’s heart beat once more. Her face froze in mid-yell. Her eyes looked at the store once more. Lily gently lowered her hoof to the countertop, where it started rubbing furiously into the wood, as if it was trying to hide itself in the grain. “Lily?” Daisy asked. “Something’s changed.” Lily said. “What’s changed?” “Ask me. Ask me now.” Lily said, quickly, almost with a small tinge of urgency. “Where do you think Rose is?” Daisy asked. “She’s here.” Lily said, pointing at the needles. “Isn’t she?” “Yes,” Daisy replied, smiling. ReasonsLily woke to her heart beating once. Before it could beat a second time, however, she quickly changed her heart for a new one. Each heart, she reckoned, could only take one beat at most. Otherwise, it might start to hurt, and hurting wasn’t a thing she was interested in at the moment. What she was interested in was being at the swimming pool that day, and so there she was — floating in the middle of a sea of depth, the winsome wind pushing up waves so black that you couldn’t quite even tell they were there, did they not spill over the sides of the pool and slightly moisten the towels. “One should not put towels on the floor,” Lily remarked, looking at them soaking up the black and squishing slightly together. “Especially in a stack. Wet stacks of towels tend to fall. Down and down they go, tumbling over, until they become one with the floor.” “Do they, now?” Daisy yelled from the side of the pool. She hadn’t decided to join Lily in swimming just yet, and sufficed herself to raising her voice to compensate for distance. “Indeed they do,” Lily said softly, as she bobbed up and down on a small inflatable grey cube. “Water is a sticky liquid, don’t you know?” “I suppose under some circumstances!” Daisy yelled. “Do you know what’s a stickier liquid than water?” Lily asked. “What?” The waves kicked up, pushing Lily toward the far edge, where the deep bits were. “Where are we?” Lily asked. “Seems like a swimming pool!” Daisy called. “Indeed. And when did we get here?” “Just a while ago!” “Correct.” Lily dipped her hoof into the waters. They spread apart, moving their bleakness out of the way, letting Lily slip in and out. “It’s quite cold,” Lily said. “Is it?” “Very cold. Almost freezing. Quite comfortable indeed. I’ve been dying for a cold shower, but all the water in the shop is hot. Did we ever fix the heater?” “Not sure it was broken!” “It must be.” The sky turned blue. The air turned fresh. The bleachers remained empty, except for a few noises that were drowned by the wind. “What am I floating on?” Lily asked, thunking the box with her hoof. It rang out, tinny, hollow, pushing the clouds away with its cry. “I don’t know! You brought it, didn’t you?” “I did. It is, in fact, an inflatable oven.” Lily declared. “What did you say?” “It’s an oven!” Lily bobbed up. “Well, that’s good!” the reply finally came. Lily bobbed down. “Doesn’t really work as a floatation device, I don’t think.” “Probably not, but at least it’s there!” “Would rather much an ice cube, I think. After all, every cold drink has to have an ice cube, and if one were to be perched on something square and cold, it might as well be an ice cube, don’t you think?” “Logically, yes!” “But this seems quite more right than an ice cube. Ovens must be kept cold, after all. They have no reason more than an ice cube to be hot. But ice cubes already keep themselves cold, so ovens need the help.” All around, the water turned pink, and started smelling of carrots. “Ah! The pool agrees!” Lily smiled, chortling. “One more thing I have defeated. I’ve defeated many things in the past few days, haven’t I, Daisy!” “Yes and I’m very proud of you!” “Are you being sarcastic?” “No!” “I can’t tell, you see,” Lily furrowed her brow. “It’s the yelling. Everything sounds like sarcasm when you yell it. I don’t quite know why, but it does. I think it has to do with the modulation. So sometimes when you scream, ponies don’t believe you.” Lily licked her lips. “Remind me to buy a new packet of hearts before we get home, Daisy.” “I’ll get them for you!” “And stop yelling. I can hear you just fine. The wind’s helping, you see.” “Oh,” Daisy said. “Sorry.” “Distance doesn’t matter when two friends are talking. It should never matter. That’s why when I say ‘Rose! Rose!’, she should answer, but she doesn’t. What does that mean?” “What do you think it means?” “I think it means she’s being rather rude.” Lily snorted. “I think it’s rather impolite. If you call someone, they answer. That’s the rule. That’s always been the rule. Have you never answered when someone’s called you?” “Well…” Daisy thought. “There have been times…” “Rude!” Lily cut Daisy off, shrilly squeaking. “How preposterously rude!” “Is rudeness the only reason, though?” “It is the only reason. Except for other reasons.” Daisy tilted her head once more, eyes flicking upward out of habit even though she didn’t need to. “How about…” she said very slowly. “How about we try to think about these other reasons?” “Absolutely not!” Lily said, clambering off her floating oven. It tossed and turned in the waves, for a box was not a shape made for the water, but Lily finally clambered down the side and strode roughly towards Daisy, stamping all the way. “Never! Never shall we consider what we have not already considered, and never will we consider what we don’t need to!” The wind swept up, kicking up the dust and the waves, as the water once more turned dark and the skies turned off. The edges of Lily’s mouth jerked up like a snake darting here and about, her face itchy from some wild, tense muscle. Daisy never broke her gaze. “I cannot change your mind, but I hope that you will.” Lily frowned. The counter to the shop was bare once more, and the air wavered as it danced back and forth like an invisible jelly. “It’s hot in here,” Lily stated, huffing, taking a seat behind the counter where she belonged. “Too hot.” Daisy followed. Slowly, stepping quietly, not a single show of any sort that her face would perform. There was only patience, and patience was always and forever a thing bereft of emotion. “I can’t handle this rudeness.” Lily folded her hooves across her chest, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. The phone rang. “See here!” Lily cried, snatching up the receiver. “Yes! Hello!” She nodded. “Rose?” Humming, she placed the receiver back down upon the cradle with a soft click, almost as if her sudden anger were drained away. “Who was it?” Daisy asked. “Not Rose,” Lily said softly, eyelids dropping. “It was everyone else.” “Everyone?” “Yes. Everyone else, all at the same time, altogether at once. It was quite hard to make it out, but after a while I could hear everyone’s voice altogether. Well, except for Rose.” “Why not Rose, I wonder?” “What’s important,” Lily said, her eyebrows narrowing as her lips pursed. “Is that I answered the phone. What’s important is that I’m here. And I will always be here to answer the phone. There will never be a case where I won’t be here to answer the phone forever.” “If that is what you want, then…” “I have to! Unlike others who… who…” Lily repeated, eyes shaking, voice trembling. “You know, you know! It is the most basic, the most necessary…” The wind picked up the waves that lashed themselves upon the side of the pool. “Where are we?” Lily muttered, throwing a hoof toward Daisy’s face. “In the store, I reckon,” Daisy said, taking a quick look around. “Right…” Lily continued, breathing out with all due purpose, staring at the counter as everything vibrated around her. “Of course, and we are… of course, and the phone… I have to answer the phone. I have to answer the phone when it calls.” “Why?” Daisy asked. “Because no one else will, will they? I have to do what no one else wants to.” “Maybe they want to.” “Then they should, shouldn’t they? They should. It’s only polite. It’s only polite.” “Is it about politeness do you think?” “Yes! We’ve been through this, haven’t we? Back at the pool three… three and a bit hours ago, we already agreed that it was just impolite to not answer a phone when…” “I thought there were other reasons.” Daisy stated, looking at Lily. “Stop!” Lily rammed her hoof down on the counter, as all the plants rattled in the store. “Alright? Stop! Enough! I told you already, I told you, and you still won’t listen! Rose is rude, alright? I can’t stand her! She never picks up the phone when I call! She never calls for me to pick up the phone! And she won’t tell me why she isn’t calling! It’s got nothing to do with your stupid rationales of ‘other reasons’ or anything of the sort! She’s just rude and a horrible friend! Can’t you accept that?” The shop froze. The only thing that moved was a trickle of sweat that dragged its way down the side of Lily’s face, and her heaving chest as she breathed in, laboured, sucking in puffs of air into her lungs. Daisy blinked, eventually, as she nodded to herself. It took her a moment to respond, as if lost in thought of her own, as Lily blinked the fuzz out of her eyes and shook her head at the floor. “No, I’m afraid I can’t,” Daisy said, musingly. “I’m just surprised that this is what you feel, really. Although it makes sense.” “Sense? What in the hell are you even talking about?” Lily croaked, drained. “Nothing you say makes sense, Daisy. Did you know that? Nothing!” “I’m… sorry,” Daisy said, sighingly. “I know. I’ll… try harder.” Lily rested her head against her hoof for a while, as if it gave her a tiny bit of comfort from the throbbing heartbeats that wound their way into her skull. “Look, just… leave me alone. Rose is gone. You’re gone. Everything is gone. I don’t know what’s the point anymore.” She squeezed her eyes, droplets of moisture pushing their way out from between her eyelids. Not enough for tears, but more than enough that her tiredness demanded. “We’re not gone,” Daisy said. “Not one of us is. But you will need to find a way to believe that Rose isn’t being rude. Can you do this?” “Then why… why won’t she call?” Lily choked, a tear hitting the countertop. “She’s supposed to call. She’s supposed to call!” “But she didn’t.” Lily cradled her face in her hooves. She shut her eyes, allowing the darkness to engulf her world. “I… I… I just… I just don’t—” Lily stammered. “I just… I want Rose to call. You know? I love Rose. I love her and she hasn’t called for three days and a bit, and it’s killing me. It’s killing me that she isn’t calling and I just… I hate her for it but I can’t hate her because I love her, Daisy, and I need… I need to know she’s okay and I want her to know that I’m okay but she hasn’t called, why hasn’t she called?” Lily coughed, swallowing heavily. “And… I will wait here. I will wait here forever for her to call and when she does I’ll be the first one to pick up the phone and say hi Rose, I missed you and everything will be fine, you know? And I don’t… I don’t know why, Daisy. I don’t know. I just don’t know why she isn’t calling.” “Lily?” the voice of Daisy came. Lily sighed. “What?” “I want you to think about what you’re going to say real hard, okay? Do it for me.” “Okay.” “Why isn’t Rose calling?” “I don’t know,” Lily said weakly. “Would you like to know?” Lily hesitated. Thinking. Thinking hard about what she was going to say next. For Daisy. “I would like that very much, Daisy.” Lily sniffed. And then the spines returned. Lily teetered, wobbling, and only a hoof scraping hard against wood stopped her from falling off her stool. Her eyes forced themselves open. Everything was different. She looked around at the shop. The shop with needles. Her lips flapped open and shut, as she struggled for the words to come. “D- daisy?” Lily whispered. “Yes, Lily?” “Where… where are we?” “The store, I would imagine.” “Why is… why… um…” “Do you see the stains, Lily?” “I… I think so. What’s going on?” “Thank goodness,” Daisy said, breathing a sigh of relief. “You’re finally here.”
Time Be gentle with them, the recently born, Their first days here with us are filled with forlorn A blanket of myth is a treasure bequeathed ‘Fore the truth of the world exposes its teeth Lily pulled her head off the table when the clock’s second-hand reached the 60-second position, except that the position was also the zero-second position and the number 12 at the same time. This had always confused Lily; there was something about time being something else that didn’t quite make sense to her, and when time had to be another time altogether it was just doubly frustrating. Lily allowed her eyes to linger over the black second-hand of the clock for a single moment, perhaps two, perhaps three, before the hand moved on and raced around the crimson track yet again, ready to meet her at the top fifty-nine seconds later. “Quickly,” Lily said, desperately. “I have fifty-seven seconds.” “For what?” Daisy asked, as she sat by Lily’s side, staring at the clock alongside her friend. “To consider.” “Consider what?” “Fifty-two seconds, now.” “Tell me,” Daisy said. “What do you wish to speak about? Lily waited for the clock to tick to fifteen, or perhaps three, depending on one’s point of view. That left a good forty-five seconds left for her to ask her question. “There are sixty seconds in every minute, and sixty minutes in every hour,” Lily said slowly, to make sure her friend could keep up. “If a minute were a second, what would an hour be?” Daisy took a further six seconds to think of a response. “Well, it would be a minute, wouldn’t it?” “Correct,” Lily said. “And if an hour were a minute, what would a day be?” Daisy waited for twelve seconds more. “Well,” Daisy said. “I don’t know.” “That’s the correct answer.” Lily nodded. The minute hand hit North. “I would have also accepted ‘three days less a bit’,” Lily added. “Three days less a bit?” Daisy looked out of the corner of her eyes to her friend, who was still keeping watch on the clock like a hawk espied a dinner turtle. “That’s how long we’ve been waiting,” Lily said. “That’s how long it’s been,” Daisy added. “How long more?” Lily asked, eyebrows sloping. “I don’t know. I can’t say.” Daisy shrugged. “Then go get her,” Lily demanded. “I don’t know how to reach her,” Daisy admitted. “Then… go to the shops.” Lily threw herself to her hooves all of a sudden, taking a look around her, allowing the rest of the world to come into view. It was their store, the shop shared by sisters three, a boutique of flowers where pots of plants lined the beautiful bay windows and crammed themselves into every corner, a place where one could not traverse the buffed wooden floors without tripping over a bush or perennial. All over the columns were hung a variety of orchids, and over there, in the far corner, were the expensive things, like the hybrid roses and crocuses, earning their weight in gold for those privileged enough to purchase them. There was a bar, as well, a place where one might partake in the eating of colours, a healthy lifestyle endorsed by the owners, in which one could indulge in a variety of seasonal vegetables and flowers of various shades, blended and pureed into interesting drinks and tasty concoctions. The colours were good for a multitude of purposes, according to Lily, and helped with various functions. One need not eat a carrot for the eyes, when any orange-shaded plant would do. But it was always carrots when it came to the salad. Lily remembered a time when there was a patron. He came in with a great smile on his face and left nearly immediately after his quick lunch. The salad agreed with him greatly, and he promised to tell all his friends about it. It had been a wonderful day. This was the flower shop. Lily swung around, pointing a hoof at Daisy. “Go to the store, I said. Need I remind you?” “You looked busy.” Daisy tilted her head. “You looked deep in thought.” “I am rarely, if ever, deep in thought,” Lily responded. “I think lightly, like the bubbles on a glass of frothy milk.” “The froth, you mean.” “What?” “The bubbles on a glass of frothy milk is otherwise just known as the froth.” “Yes. I am the froth. Does this explain your action of inaction?” “I didn’t want to interrupt.” “You are a good sister.” Lily nodded in recognition. “But good sisters also go to the store.” “What shall I do there?” “You are to buy one Rose and return her back here to the shop.” “Friends can’t be bought at the store.” Daisy raised an eyebrow. “We’ve spoken about this before.” “Maybe you can check again! There’s always things we miss! Remember last week, when we needed pickles, and we didn’t find a pickle aisle, but we went back again and there was actually a whole section of pickled everythings?” “Yes, I remember.” “And Rose still hadn’t come back by then! How long had it been?” “Three days less a bit,” Daisy said softly. “Yeah.” Lily nodded. “Yeah. That’s right.” Lily rubbed her chin with a hoof, her tail waving in the still air of the shop. “Could you go get me something else instead?” Lily asked. “Sure, Lily. What would you like?” “Anything. Whole big box of anythings.” “Alright, Lily.” The hour hand reached a tick past North. Lily was left alone. Rose had been gone for three days less a bit. They had been waiting earnestly for her triumphant return. It would have been good to have the ability to travel through time. Perhaps then, she could go back in time to talk to Rose before she left and tell her to return sooner. Or perhaps she could go forward in time to when Rose had already returned in order to meet her then. But the latter idea wasn’t so good, since in that case, Rose would have to wait for them, and the sheer thought of it sent an odd crushing sensation to Lily’s chest, like a vise squeezing out the last ounce of juice from an unfortunate carnation. No, it would be no good to have anyone wait for her. Waiting should be avoided, and in this case, she would much rather be the waiter than the waitee. There were never any good waiters. Except of course, the sorts at restaurants, perhaps, because they got you your food and drinks and told you you had to leave if you stayed two hours past last order. Those were the good kind, unless they were rather rude, in which case they were merely the acceptable kind. But having to make others wait for anything at all was definitely unacceptable. Lily’s carnation told her so. “Here,” Daisy said, placing a paper bag up on the counter. “Oh, you’re back already,” Lily exclaimed. “All within the moment of a thought.” “Yes,” Daisy replied. “Sometimes time flies when we’re in consideration. Have you thought of much?” “I have been thinking of time, and how much I would love to be a time traveller,” Lily replied. “And by the time I had finished my thought, you had returned.” “I’ve been all the way to the shops and back. Surely it’s not been that soon?” “It has been rather soon.” Lily nodded. “Well… how much time has passed?” Daisy asked, gesturing to the clock. Lily turned to stare at the hands that went tick, tock, and sometimes tock, tick. The long hand pointed West. “It has been forty-two minutes and some seconds,” Lily determined. “As I expected.” “Did you?” “I have very long thoughts,” Lily said. “It’s only expected that it would take forty-two minutes and some seconds.” “Well, I did as you asked,” Daisy gestured to the brown paper bag. “I have bought you a box of anythings.” “What did you get?” Lily slid the bag towards herself. “What it was you were looking for.” “Rose?” “Within reason.” “Ah. Then, of course it’s…” Daisy nodded. “It’s…” Lily muttered, hoof over the bag. “Yes?” “What was it I was looking for?” “Have a look. I don’t know. I simply bought it and brought it here.” Daisy gestured. “Fine, then! You’re quite fun, you realise, withholding information like this!” “Quite fun?” Daisy tilted her head. “Yes, indeed. After all, giving things away early would simply spoil the surprise, wouldn’t it? You’ve played your part remarkably.” Without a moment more, Lily tore at the bag, peeling the sides away like layers of an onion. The brown shavings fluttered to the floor like dead, wilted leaves, where they lay in need of a sweeping away. “It’s a box.” Lily said. “That’s what it is. You did ask for a box, did you not?” “Yes, quite so. A box of anythings. A box… like this. One finely carved in wood. One longer than it is wide. One with two lids on the top. It’s exactly as I asked for.” “I’m glad, then.” Lily pushed at one of the lids, and then the other. “I can’t open it.” “Well, you said you wanted a box. You didn’t say you wanted what was in the box.” “That’s true. You’re wise, Daisy.” Lily left it alone. The box lay on the desk, happy and content. Lily lay her head on the countertop sideways, staring at her new acquisition. “Say, Daisy?” “Yes?” “Do you think the box will ever open? There are no keyholes, nor latches. There is nothing that is keeping these two lids from sliding off. And this is not a trick-box. I would know. I have played with a number of trick-boxes before, and they always have a thing about them. This one has no thing about it. It simply will not open. Will it ever open, do you think?” “Maybe.” “Why won’t it open now?” “I couldn’t say. Perhaps it is just that you want the outside more than you want the inside.” “Ah, yes, of course.” Lily rose back up off the table. “It is a nice box. There is nothing much else to say about it. It is nice and I love it. It is fine, as a box, and I am content with it, as a box. So, should it be anything more?” “It doesn’t have to be. Maybe it never will.” “Then… then!” Lily declared, putting up her hoof. “I will leave it to the box.” “That would be for the best.” “It will be the box’s decision.” Lily lifted the box with both forelegs, hoisting it up above her head like it were a small child. “Yes.” “I shall name him… Oakley.” “Is it made of oak?” “It is pine. I can tell. I work in a flower shop.” Lily swept her hoof around to elaborate. “A fitting name.” “Oakley will stand in for Rose while we wait for her.” Daisy smiled. It was a smile that was trying very hard to be as warm as it could be. “Do you know what I thought of? Just now,” Lily said, placing Oakley back onto the bar counter. “What?” “We are time travellers. All of us.” “Are we?” “Yes. We are all constantly moving forward in time at a rate of one second per second. All of us. Together.” “Ah… well. Maybe.” Daisy nodded. “Do you counter my proposition?” “It all depends on who is moving through time,” Daisy said. “Then, all we have to do is keep travelling forward in time until we meet Rose again. And then she won’t have to wait for us.” “That sounds like an idea.” “It’s a perfect idea.” “Yes.” Lily waited. “Do you suppose she’ll be back soon?” Lily asked. “I don’t think so, I’m afraid.” Daisy responded. Lily waited. “She will, won’t she? I’d very much like to show her Oakley.” “She would very much like to meet him, if she could.” Lily waited. “How long has it been, do you think, since Rose left?” “Three hours less a bit.” “Of course.” Lily waited.
PlaceLight appeared in the shop as Lily opened her eyes. It was daytime now, but night a moment before. She sat at the countertop to her shop — the one that had the register and the good, thoughtful placement and the small basket of assorted florals sitting as a sort of last-minute purchase encouragement for customers. Lily sat there because she wanted to be there, and she sat there in the day because sitting there at nighttime would be rather silly indeed, for only did two customers ever come at night before and one of them didn’t want to buy anything because he was hiding from the bull-snarts and it was quite possible that he had a bit too much of Auntie Mildred’s Elderberry Wine because that was what he eventually threw up all over the dandelions. The other customer bought a bouquet of flowers for his wife’s birthday that was that same day and Lily really hoped that it went alright. The dandelions were doing quite well that morning. Daisy was there, but then again, she always had been for as long as the shop was there around her. The bell on the front door jingled to signify the approach of a new customer. Lily nodded her head in approval. The day, it seemed, was off to a fantastic start. “That went well,” Lily said to Daisy, who stood, as she always did, by the side and never at the front. “It did. How do you feel about that?” Daisy asked. “I feel…” Lily thought. “I feel, I feel like it is a great day. Um…” “Something on your mind?” “How can one tell if a day is great?” “How is it a great day for you?” Daisy asked. “Well. You see,” Lily said, “it’s quite chilly, and we are in our store. The bell rung, and everything is fine except for the fact that where is Rose?” “She’s not here, that’s for sure,” Daisy said. “Where do you think she is?” “I see. You’re doing that thing with the questions,” Lily said. “Perhaps the day isn’t so great after all!” “What thing with the questions?” “Where you respond to my questions with a question. You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Lily pouted. “I’m not sure I like it very much.” Daisy nodded to herself, glancing sideways. “I know. But to be fair, I only ask the questions because I can’t give the answers.” “Hm,” Lily considered, stroking her chin. “That’s true. I suppose you have a good, fine point. What was it you were asking me?” “Where do you think Rose is?” “Not here.” “That seems like an answer that we have,” Daisy said. “Indeed,” Lily agreed. “But where is she?” “Where do you think Rose is?” “Not here.” “Alright, ask me again one more time,” Daisy said. “Why?” “Because I’m hoping you will have a different answer,” Daisy explained. “But wouldn’t that require a different question?” “Ask me again,” Daisy said, “and we’ll see.” Lily thought about it for a while. It seemed reasonable for a question to have many different answers. After all, things never stayed the same, and nothing was forever. “Forever is alone,” Lily said. “Pardon me?” Daisy asked. “You see, nothing is forever except for forever and nothing, which is also forever. Forever would like for everything to be forever, but it’s only nothing that is. And since everything except for forever and nothing is not forever, forever only has nothing to be forever with. And since nothing is nothing, and forever is not nothing, then nothing is a forever that is not there, and thusly forever is still alone even though nothing is also forever.” “And what does that tell you?” Daisy asked. “That being more of something can also be less of something.” “Exactly so,” Daisy said. “For example, this shop.” Lily motioned to the corners. “There are more questions, but less answers. If you put it together…” Daisy listened intently. “Where is Rose?” Lily asked. “I feel that is more answer and less question.” “I suppose so,” Daisy agreed. “Sometimes knowing the answer to one thing is also knowing the answer to a great many things.” “Weren’t you supposed to say ‘Where do I think she is’?” Lily asked. “Did you want me to?” “Perhaps later,” Lily said. Lily waited. “She’s not in this store,” Lily said, as she looked around. “She’s not quite here.” “Why do you think this?” Daisy said, her ears perking forward. “Huh.” Lily responded, as she stared into the shadows. The shadows stared back. Lily glanced at the dust dancing around in the shafts of light that hit the hydrangeas. They were perfectly so, and the hydrangeas perfectly watered. Insects had been munching on a few leaves here and there as she thought they would, and not on the leaves that she thought they wouldn’t. For a second, Lily felt her heart thump. Once. Perfectly. The air was stilled. “Huh.” Lily repeated. “Where are we?” It was a simple question, an honest question — as honest as questions can get given the limitations of scope that one pony has for the universe. The answer was equally honest. “We are here,” Daisy replied. “But where is here?” Lily tramped her hoof onto the floor. “Where we’ve come.” “A-ha!” Lily proclaimed, sticking a hoof upward. “I’ve caught you!” Daisy tilted her head. “You see,” Lily continued, “If we have come to someplace, that means we have come from someplace, correct?” “Yes, that would be the conventional wisdom,” Daisy replied. “That means there’s more to this place than the shop,” Lily said, sweeping her hoof throughout the air. “More than these shelves and this floor and the musty air which is surprisingly fresh given I haven’t opened a window in more than three days and also more than those windows as well.” “The windows don’t open, anyway,” Daisy said, looking toward them. “They’re the sort that don’t open.” “They used to.” “Yes.” “Just like we used to be somewhere and then came here.” “It’s the store,” Daisy said, matter-of-factly. “And where were we four days ago?” “The store.” “So!” Lily stated, pushing a cactus into place. “We’ve come from the store to the store.” “That is… correct.” Daisy nodded. “But it’s different.” “How so?” Lily motioned to the cactus, glad that she set one up beforehand. “Consider this fine specimen. Parodia Mammulosa. The lemon ball cactus. It feels right.” The cactus sat on the table in all its splendour, shining forth brightly as a beacon and champion of its kind. “It’s rather spiky looking,” Daisy commented. “But if one were to yank out all its spinkies,” Lily said, mimicking the act of a deranged pony yanking out all the spinkies of a lemon ball cactus, “then it would still be a cactus, but it would not feel the same.” “It would feel rather more comfortable, wouldn’t it?” “Exactly!” Lily said, smashing her hoof onto the cactus in desperate fervour. “It would be!” “Are you saying this shop feels more comfortable?” “I’m saying…” Lily muttered, yanking out all the spinkies from her hoof, “it feels too comfortable. It feels like the store, and looks like the store, but it doesn’t have pointy bits. It doesn’t have bite, and it doesn’t have teeth. Do you know why?” “I can’t answer that,” Daisy said. Humming to herself, Lily started to line up the needles on the desk, all in a row. They were all the same length, all had a slightly yellow smell and a musty flavour, much like a small box filled with nails. “This is why,” Lily said, displaying her finished work. “Looks good,” Daisy said. Lily shook her hoof at the needles, her mane bobbing as her body shook to the rhythm of her leg dancing through the air. “See… see… there’s something quite wrong about these spines. There’s something quite, quite off about them and I just can’t tell what. And I can’t describe it.” “Why can’t you describe it?” Daisy asked. “Because someone has stolen my words.” Lily declared. “Stolen it, like someone has stolen the spines off this cactus. Who would do such a thing?” “Not many ponies come to this store,” Daisy said. “Not many ponies!” Lily echoed. “Not many! Just myself, and you, and Rose.” Lily’s heart beat once more. Her face froze in mid-yell. Her eyes looked at the store once more. Lily gently lowered her hoof to the countertop, where it started rubbing furiously into the wood, as if it was trying to hide itself in the grain. “Lily?” Daisy asked. “Something’s changed.” Lily said. “What’s changed?” “Ask me. Ask me now.” Lily said, quickly, almost with a small tinge of urgency. “Where do you think Rose is?” Daisy asked. “She’s here.” Lily said, pointing at the needles. “Isn’t she?” “Yes,” Daisy replied, smiling.
ReasonsLily woke to her heart beating once. Before it could beat a second time, however, she quickly changed her heart for a new one. Each heart, she reckoned, could only take one beat at most. Otherwise, it might start to hurt, and hurting wasn’t a thing she was interested in at the moment. What she was interested in was being at the swimming pool that day, and so there she was — floating in the middle of a sea of depth, the winsome wind pushing up waves so black that you couldn’t quite even tell they were there, did they not spill over the sides of the pool and slightly moisten the towels. “One should not put towels on the floor,” Lily remarked, looking at them soaking up the black and squishing slightly together. “Especially in a stack. Wet stacks of towels tend to fall. Down and down they go, tumbling over, until they become one with the floor.” “Do they, now?” Daisy yelled from the side of the pool. She hadn’t decided to join Lily in swimming just yet, and sufficed herself to raising her voice to compensate for distance. “Indeed they do,” Lily said softly, as she bobbed up and down on a small inflatable grey cube. “Water is a sticky liquid, don’t you know?” “I suppose under some circumstances!” Daisy yelled. “Do you know what’s a stickier liquid than water?” Lily asked. “What?” The waves kicked up, pushing Lily toward the far edge, where the deep bits were. “Where are we?” Lily asked. “Seems like a swimming pool!” Daisy called. “Indeed. And when did we get here?” “Just a while ago!” “Correct.” Lily dipped her hoof into the waters. They spread apart, moving their bleakness out of the way, letting Lily slip in and out. “It’s quite cold,” Lily said. “Is it?” “Very cold. Almost freezing. Quite comfortable indeed. I’ve been dying for a cold shower, but all the water in the shop is hot. Did we ever fix the heater?” “Not sure it was broken!” “It must be.” The sky turned blue. The air turned fresh. The bleachers remained empty, except for a few noises that were drowned by the wind. “What am I floating on?” Lily asked, thunking the box with her hoof. It rang out, tinny, hollow, pushing the clouds away with its cry. “I don’t know! You brought it, didn’t you?” “I did. It is, in fact, an inflatable oven.” Lily declared. “What did you say?” “It’s an oven!” Lily bobbed up. “Well, that’s good!” the reply finally came. Lily bobbed down. “Doesn’t really work as a floatation device, I don’t think.” “Probably not, but at least it’s there!” “Would rather much an ice cube, I think. After all, every cold drink has to have an ice cube, and if one were to be perched on something square and cold, it might as well be an ice cube, don’t you think?” “Logically, yes!” “But this seems quite more right than an ice cube. Ovens must be kept cold, after all. They have no reason more than an ice cube to be hot. But ice cubes already keep themselves cold, so ovens need the help.” All around, the water turned pink, and started smelling of carrots. “Ah! The pool agrees!” Lily smiled, chortling. “One more thing I have defeated. I’ve defeated many things in the past few days, haven’t I, Daisy!” “Yes and I’m very proud of you!” “Are you being sarcastic?” “No!” “I can’t tell, you see,” Lily furrowed her brow. “It’s the yelling. Everything sounds like sarcasm when you yell it. I don’t quite know why, but it does. I think it has to do with the modulation. So sometimes when you scream, ponies don’t believe you.” Lily licked her lips. “Remind me to buy a new packet of hearts before we get home, Daisy.” “I’ll get them for you!” “And stop yelling. I can hear you just fine. The wind’s helping, you see.” “Oh,” Daisy said. “Sorry.” “Distance doesn’t matter when two friends are talking. It should never matter. That’s why when I say ‘Rose! Rose!’, she should answer, but she doesn’t. What does that mean?” “What do you think it means?” “I think it means she’s being rather rude.” Lily snorted. “I think it’s rather impolite. If you call someone, they answer. That’s the rule. That’s always been the rule. Have you never answered when someone’s called you?” “Well…” Daisy thought. “There have been times…” “Rude!” Lily cut Daisy off, shrilly squeaking. “How preposterously rude!” “Is rudeness the only reason, though?” “It is the only reason. Except for other reasons.” Daisy tilted her head once more, eyes flicking upward out of habit even though she didn’t need to. “How about…” she said very slowly. “How about we try to think about these other reasons?” “Absolutely not!” Lily said, clambering off her floating oven. It tossed and turned in the waves, for a box was not a shape made for the water, but Lily finally clambered down the side and strode roughly towards Daisy, stamping all the way. “Never! Never shall we consider what we have not already considered, and never will we consider what we don’t need to!” The wind swept up, kicking up the dust and the waves, as the water once more turned dark and the skies turned off. The edges of Lily’s mouth jerked up like a snake darting here and about, her face itchy from some wild, tense muscle. Daisy never broke her gaze. “I cannot change your mind, but I hope that you will.” Lily frowned. The counter to the shop was bare once more, and the air wavered as it danced back and forth like an invisible jelly. “It’s hot in here,” Lily stated, huffing, taking a seat behind the counter where she belonged. “Too hot.” Daisy followed. Slowly, stepping quietly, not a single show of any sort that her face would perform. There was only patience, and patience was always and forever a thing bereft of emotion. “I can’t handle this rudeness.” Lily folded her hooves across her chest, blowing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. The phone rang. “See here!” Lily cried, snatching up the receiver. “Yes! Hello!” She nodded. “Rose?” Humming, she placed the receiver back down upon the cradle with a soft click, almost as if her sudden anger were drained away. “Who was it?” Daisy asked. “Not Rose,” Lily said softly, eyelids dropping. “It was everyone else.” “Everyone?” “Yes. Everyone else, all at the same time, altogether at once. It was quite hard to make it out, but after a while I could hear everyone’s voice altogether. Well, except for Rose.” “Why not Rose, I wonder?” “What’s important,” Lily said, her eyebrows narrowing as her lips pursed. “Is that I answered the phone. What’s important is that I’m here. And I will always be here to answer the phone. There will never be a case where I won’t be here to answer the phone forever.” “If that is what you want, then…” “I have to! Unlike others who… who…” Lily repeated, eyes shaking, voice trembling. “You know, you know! It is the most basic, the most necessary…” The wind picked up the waves that lashed themselves upon the side of the pool. “Where are we?” Lily muttered, throwing a hoof toward Daisy’s face. “In the store, I reckon,” Daisy said, taking a quick look around. “Right…” Lily continued, breathing out with all due purpose, staring at the counter as everything vibrated around her. “Of course, and we are… of course, and the phone… I have to answer the phone. I have to answer the phone when it calls.” “Why?” Daisy asked. “Because no one else will, will they? I have to do what no one else wants to.” “Maybe they want to.” “Then they should, shouldn’t they? They should. It’s only polite. It’s only polite.” “Is it about politeness do you think?” “Yes! We’ve been through this, haven’t we? Back at the pool three… three and a bit hours ago, we already agreed that it was just impolite to not answer a phone when…” “I thought there were other reasons.” Daisy stated, looking at Lily. “Stop!” Lily rammed her hoof down on the counter, as all the plants rattled in the store. “Alright? Stop! Enough! I told you already, I told you, and you still won’t listen! Rose is rude, alright? I can’t stand her! She never picks up the phone when I call! She never calls for me to pick up the phone! And she won’t tell me why she isn’t calling! It’s got nothing to do with your stupid rationales of ‘other reasons’ or anything of the sort! She’s just rude and a horrible friend! Can’t you accept that?” The shop froze. The only thing that moved was a trickle of sweat that dragged its way down the side of Lily’s face, and her heaving chest as she breathed in, laboured, sucking in puffs of air into her lungs. Daisy blinked, eventually, as she nodded to herself. It took her a moment to respond, as if lost in thought of her own, as Lily blinked the fuzz out of her eyes and shook her head at the floor. “No, I’m afraid I can’t,” Daisy said, musingly. “I’m just surprised that this is what you feel, really. Although it makes sense.” “Sense? What in the hell are you even talking about?” Lily croaked, drained. “Nothing you say makes sense, Daisy. Did you know that? Nothing!” “I’m… sorry,” Daisy said, sighingly. “I know. I’ll… try harder.” Lily rested her head against her hoof for a while, as if it gave her a tiny bit of comfort from the throbbing heartbeats that wound their way into her skull. “Look, just… leave me alone. Rose is gone. You’re gone. Everything is gone. I don’t know what’s the point anymore.” She squeezed her eyes, droplets of moisture pushing their way out from between her eyelids. Not enough for tears, but more than enough that her tiredness demanded. “We’re not gone,” Daisy said. “Not one of us is. But you will need to find a way to believe that Rose isn’t being rude. Can you do this?” “Then why… why won’t she call?” Lily choked, a tear hitting the countertop. “She’s supposed to call. She’s supposed to call!” “But she didn’t.” Lily cradled her face in her hooves. She shut her eyes, allowing the darkness to engulf her world. “I… I… I just… I just don’t—” Lily stammered. “I just… I want Rose to call. You know? I love Rose. I love her and she hasn’t called for three days and a bit, and it’s killing me. It’s killing me that she isn’t calling and I just… I hate her for it but I can’t hate her because I love her, Daisy, and I need… I need to know she’s okay and I want her to know that I’m okay but she hasn’t called, why hasn’t she called?” Lily coughed, swallowing heavily. “And… I will wait here. I will wait here forever for her to call and when she does I’ll be the first one to pick up the phone and say hi Rose, I missed you and everything will be fine, you know? And I don’t… I don’t know why, Daisy. I don’t know. I just don’t know why she isn’t calling.” “Lily?” the voice of Daisy came. Lily sighed. “What?” “I want you to think about what you’re going to say real hard, okay? Do it for me.” “Okay.” “Why isn’t Rose calling?” “I don’t know,” Lily said weakly. “Would you like to know?” Lily hesitated. Thinking. Thinking hard about what she was going to say next. For Daisy. “I would like that very much, Daisy.” Lily sniffed. And then the spines returned. Lily teetered, wobbling, and only a hoof scraping hard against wood stopped her from falling off her stool. Her eyes forced themselves open. Everything was different. She looked around at the shop. The shop with needles. Her lips flapped open and shut, as she struggled for the words to come. “D- daisy?” Lily whispered. “Yes, Lily?” “Where… where are we?” “The store, I would imagine.” “Why is… why… um…” “Do you see the stains, Lily?” “I… I think so. What’s going on?” “Thank goodness,” Daisy said, breathing a sigh of relief. “You’re finally here.”
