Chapters Ch-1 Great Things From Small Beginnings.
I'm going to try this, so lemme know how it works out, but I am going to link three songs at the beginning of every chapter, that i suggest watching, in given order, while you read the piece, just mood music, if ya want. completely optional, and DNE in the story.
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I sigh and glance at the clock. 5 ‘til, I think to myself, anxiously; I was ready to get out of class. I glance back down to my notes. They consisted of scribbles, half-legible cursive, and an almost overwhelming amount of shorthand, from shortened sentences, to condensed concepts. Shorthand wasn’t about getting the information down in as few words as possible, it was about recreating the thought process, being able to mimic the initial intake of information, thus reforming the input, thus creating further memorisation and understanding. Right? I ask myself, having become completely absorbed in my thoughts. I glance around at the students around me, all of them were just doing regular old student things’ texting, playing on their phones, or paying attention to the lecture. It was the last lecture before the final exams. There would be a class session for test reviews, but after that, that would be it. Final exams, and then a few weeks of freedom.
Freedom for most students, I guess but for me, it was just another return to the familiar, hide in my room, play games, and just do my best to avoid Equinity.
I shook my head. No. this was my last term, then I’d be out of here, out of the house, and out on my own. Whatever that meant.
I still hadn’t really thought ahead of finals. Every idea, every thought, and every consideration beyond that was still a mess of deliberation, passion fueled insanity, and half-dreamt fantasy. What’s one to do with freedom?
That’s life right? One jump into the unknown after another? I mentally shrug, and dismiss that line of reasoning; insanity, that’s what it was. I shake my head to clear it and turn my attention back towards Ms. Thunderberry’s concepts of accelerated fluid dynamics or some shit like that. I didn’t care about physics, honestly. I was just here because I’d been ‘convinced’ to take them. Forced more like , whatever, that was behind me now. I close my eyes and repeat that to myself a couple times, it’s behind me, it’s behind me, it’s done and over with, and crying about it now isn’t going to fix it. I exhale forcibly, and try to pay attention to the last few minutes of the lecture.
The rest of the class passed by without anything too interesting happening; just a conclusion of the chapter and a promise of a test review on the next class. I sigh as the other students clear out and I slowly put my stuff away. I shuffle out of class behind everypony else and look around the halls. I glance at the fillies; a few of them are cute but none of them are anything special. Just cute. I shake my head and let my shaggy, poison green mane straighten itself out before boredly walking out of the hall, out of the school, and then to my dorm, wherein I plop onto my office chair, and proceed to zone out contemplating the finer points of nothing.
A few hours of dullness passed, I was doing little more than sitting there, personifying blobishness in the holy chair of intense sitting. Eventually, I pull out a notepad and scratch out some thoughts. That’s what I did, I recorded, I repeated, I reused every bit of information I could apply to the point of being incestious with my own thought process. But it managed the task of creating enough new content to keep the boredom from killing me. I was a 7 on the bored scale from 1 through dead. But again, that’s life; long periods of boredom interspersed with a few moments of excitement.
After scratching out contemplation concerning said thought, as it already has multiple instances in said notebook, I close it and shake myself to clear off the must of boredom. Today, today I was going to do something. I was going to get out there and make something of my last few days before the mad rush to finals and the conclusion of the semester.
I look myself over in the mirror. My brows hadn’t repeated their unibrow tendency yet and my face was clean enough. My hair was done; messy, yet gelled down enough to be presentable. I held my usual ‘haunted’ look; the drawn cheeks, tired eyes, and intense brows that I found as my trademark. The look that I felt said, ‘I’ve seen it all, I’ve ran and ran, and I’ve seen everything, and I keep running, running something just as terrifying as the boogeypony.’
I chuckled at the thought, sure, I’d been through alot in my short life, but I sure as hell hadn’t seen ‘everything’. I shrugged to myself, turned, and headed out the door.
‘Onwards and forwards, into the great unknown I tread,
I’m searching, for what I do not know,
though I hope it wears perfume,
and dances in the snow,
I’m not much of a writer,
a dreamer or a poet,
but surely, there’s beauty for midnight at lowest.’
I snort to myself at the end of the …. shanty? Poem? Something. It was neat. I filed it away in my thoughts for later use and continued upon my journey into the great…. where was I going?
I stop, somewhere between the school and my dorm and facehoof. I do it properly, taking time to slowly and deliberately bury my face, a full proper six hooves, into my hoof. A groan of perceived stupidity accompanies it. I lower my hoof after the required one second of motionlessness, and start trying to think of what to do.
I collect my thoughts, circling a few times to look at the surrounding geography; the slightly chilled wind blowing through my dark blue coat, praying that it might present some idea as to where to go, I spot the city in the distance. A massive, glowing representation of the corporate, consumer world. Shrugging, I walked hurriedly in that direction. I wanted to have some time after I got there before I had to head home. Well, that and it helped to keep my mind off things. I wanted to be moving and if I was moving, I was escaping .
‘Escaping from what?’ I ask myself inquisitively. I pause, and shake my head to clear it. I think to myself, It’s in the past. Whatever that meant.
I had thought that so many times, I had built such a stonewall out of my past that I was able to forget who I was. That forgetting brought peace. It was my tranquil, sad, sanguine serenity.
I thus progressed towards the city. Quietly, swiftly, and unobtrusively, paying no mind to the world around me and simply existing within myself.
Within about a half an hour, I had achieved the outskirts of the city. Ponies on hoof were becoming increasingly popular, and the dirt road gave way to a paved one with sidewalks, the street itself reserved for carts. I assume a more relaxed pace and instead concentrate on finding something to do. I wasn’t a clubby person. I didn’t drink outside of my dorm. Raves disgusted me. There just wasn’t a whole lot of stuff for a pony like me to do. I shrugged. Eventually, I’d find a tea shop. Sometimes, it was a good thing to just sit and drink tea to your heart’s content.
I open the door to the tea shop and wince at the light sound of a bell hung off the door. I hated having my presence announced. it made me feel…exposed. It drew attention to me. I felt like a sitting duck when it happened. I return the hostess’ greeting and find myself an inconspicuous table. There are other patrons in the cafe but overall the place is sparsely populated. They were selling tea after all. Plus, this wasn’t a high society city; it was industrial cesspool of capitalist filth. When the waitress asks for my order, I request a green tea. Then, I sit and stare at the table after she leaves. What the everlasting fuck am I doing here? Doing this for?
I am upset by my total lack of an answer to such a simple question. Sure, I could throw excuses at it until it went away but that wouldn’t solve the problem. Being dishonest to oneself was a recipe for disaster and it required a strong use of doublethink for me to continue to believe that as someone who lies to themselves about their past on a regular basis.
The waitress was rather pretty. Thankfully, this was a quiet secluded corner for refined ponies and refined ponies took care of themselves and their appearances. My thought took on a new, welcome tangent, onto what I aspired to find in a potential mate. I wasn’t too picky on looks, love makes ponies blind. I wanted someone that was like me, a bit crazy, mistrusting of everything they couldn’t prove, and completely against giving anypony,anypony, power over other ponies in any form.
If you want to rule, too bad. If you want to lead a revolt, be the change you want to seeband when you have achieved change, fade back into the crowd and go about your business. Crime should be dealt with swiftly and decisively; if you kill somepony, you die. If you rape somepony, you get gelded. If you steal something...that was a hard one. I had a soft spot for thieves as a lot of them did it because they had to survive and that was how they managed to do so. Anything that wasn’t unquestionably straightforward, time in prison.
Anyways, wooing the waitress might be fun, or at least getting to know her. She was a pleasing yellowed beige and her coat had been brushed and cleaned until it shone slightly in the soft light of the cafe. Her mane was a brownish gray reminiscent of oak bark, also cleaned and maintained to perfection. I honestly did feel a little lackluster compared to her, tending to not care for myself beyond the basics, except for in the event of an outing. In which case I would clean myself up as much as I could in a short time, as perfection was all about maintaining your image, not the spontaneous creation of flawlessness. I find myself watching the waitress as she takes the other patron’s orders and eventually brings me my drink. She was probably taken anyways; a mare like that would more than likely have a few friends that would jump at a chance with her. Whatever, I conclude. She’s probably too aloof and haughty for my tastes anyways.
I return to my own mental bubble and concentrate on enjoying my tea. I wonder what I would look like with a coat that was actually maintained, if still a bit shaggy. I liked being shaggy, it kept me warm and it kept with my mane in the ‘intentionally messy’ department. I wondered if that would help my chances any but I figured it wouldn’t matter too much. I might even have looked better if I took steps away from society's standards and kept my coat as dull as possible. It’d make sense, having such a dark coat. I ask myself for the thousandth time if my mane really does glow. My wingtips, the same color as said mane, cradle the cup of tea and bring it to my lips for yet another drink. I sit for a moment and contemplate my odd coloration. I was a deep blue, somewhere below royal and navy, a shade I called ‘midnight’ that was in fact an actual shade of blue yet, my mane was a radioactive green that seemed to glow in some lights. My wingtips displaying the same shade, they also appeared to glow sometimes. Which bothered me to no end. I felt like a neon sign sometimes; dark colors contrasted by glowing, radioactive highlights. My wings themselves faded from the color of my coat, to the color of my mane. My tail, again, was that same limey, poisonous color that reminded me of dragons, poison, and radioactivity. I sighed to myself, and then went back to drinking my tea. That was life. You were dealt a hand, you had to play it. You could fold at any time but you only got dealt once.
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Ch-2 All Good Things Must Come to an End. Luckily, so Must All Bad Things
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I walk out of the classroom with complete uncertainty. I was done, I was out of it. I had finished. I had a few more things to do and then I was on my own. I was alone. I was on my own card and I had no help from anyone. It was just me, on my own. I loved it but it terrified me.
I had some cash saved up, but it was nothing special, just enough. Some spending money, a rainy day fund, a little bit more than what I needed to survive. I had budgeted everything out and I made enough money to live off of as long as I spent my money smart.
I could sit in the dorm for a few more days before they kicked me out and I planned to use those days to pack my few possessions together. I had already sold everything I couldn’t carry with me in the last few weeks. My plan now? Move and don’t stop. Pack up my things and take to the sky. Run as far as I could, to the reaches of everywhere, and keep running until the run turns into a chase.
And what a glorious chase it would be.
I snort at my own idiocy, and walk down the hallway. I had stuff to do. I had to choose where to go first then I had to figure out how to make enough money to get wherever I chose to go. I needed an apartment in the meantime and I didn’t have time to dilly dally on such outlandish fantasies as finding a mate. That wasn’t going to happen for me and every second spent in the attempted defiance of that fact, was another second wasted that I could be spending doing something that would get me somewhere. Sure, I had seconds to waste but they weren’t right now.
I step out of the school, go to the dorm, and ensure that everything is packed and ready to go. I give my roommate, who had decided to nap upon the completion of his own exams, a glance, full of contempt before heading out of the dorm. Thereupon towards the city with the intent of walking around until I find apartments, inquiring as to their policies and prices or rent. Continuing on in a somewhat gridded path that was crafted more on the intent of avoiding the worst of the ghettos, and the areas that I knew would be out of my budget. This was based entirely upon my noticed surroundings instead of having any actual knowledge of the area. Sure, I could navigate major roads but knowledge of the smaller areas eluded me, and I found no purpose in perfecting navigation in every corner of the city. If I spent what I felt was too long without seeing an apartment, I would simply take flight and locate one from above ground.
Thus was how I spent the time from my early afternoon on until dusk, at which point I stepped back into the cafe I had visited upon my last trip to the city. I bought some more green tea and headed home with the tea cup grasped firmly in my left wing. The walk home was calming. It was certainly getting colder as fall progressed into winter.
Winter. I think of fuzzy thoughts, thoughts I wished I could have without regret. Thoughts of spending time around a hearth with a family, of curling up in front of a fire with a special somepony and falling asleep next to them. I decided I needed to light a candle when I got home. Flames intrigued me. Fire represented good things. No matter how much ponies feared it, it could do no wrong in my eyes. Fire purged filth, it cleansed, it created the ashes from which a new world could be born. It was the ultimate hoof-sanitizer and no infection was safe from its grasp. Snow melted back from heat created by the eternal flame of the sun. The melting snow provided water for the world, awakened from the slumber of winter, to regrow. Fire was the source of all life. Without it, Equus would be just another frozen ball in space. I liked that thought: a frozen ball in space. I had suffered too much, seen to much and the most profound thing I knew was that my suffering was nothing compared to what happened to some other people. I was a mild case, I had just suffered emotionally. I had not been subject to the unspeakable physical suffering others went through, I had never starved, I still had all of my limbs, nothing had taken a bite out of me yet. I was whole of body and though every once in awhile I put myself through physical suffering, it was still minimal. It was wrong and that was it. Nothing should have to suffer the way ponies suffered today; nothing should have to starve to death, nothing should have to freeze to death, to burn, or anything. Pain was something that didn’t bother me but the concept of others in pain upset me to no end.
I pull my folding knife out, the cheap one I have for sentiment, more than anything else. It was a cheap, reliable blade on which the mechanisms would never wear out and though it wasn’t the sharpest blade in existence, it did the job. I flicked it open, closed it, and reopened it with the kind of casualness that bespoke a nervous habit. It was late enough and there weren’t many ponies around. so I wasn’t worried about being arrested. I continued to walk, mind silent, concentrating on nothing but the monotonous opening and closing of the blade. As I approach the dorm, I put it away, tucking it back into one of the outer pockets of my saddlebags and fold my wings to my sides. I make my way inside the building and up the stairs, to my room, 212. I shared it with some randomly assigned student that was a stereotypical pegasus in the most inane way possible. Brutish, average intelligence, into physical sports like hoofball. Oh, how he loved hoofball. Oh, how I hated his obsession with the damn thing.
I dulley notice his absence, shrug and rummage through my possessions to ensure they've not been touched. I finish off my tea, having held it in the opposite wing of the knife, throw the cup into the trash can and proceed to settle into my bed. I had seen some nice apartments, nothing great, nothing terrible, several within my price range, a few with decent locations. I had two or three to choose from and I thought I could find the right one based upon whatever factors remained. Namely the overall quality of the tenants and the tolerance for things such as noise and the like. I was for the most part a quiet person but sometimes I had to silence myself, and to do so, occasionally I needed noise. I consider my options, going forward. The apartment would cost me W, I had Z amount of funds, X amount of money went into things like food, clothing, utilities, and I had Y bits left over. Y bits that had to be saved for a rainy day or spent sparsely on excess and consumerism. I worked for A hours a day, and I made B bits an hour, with C days off, which left me 15 - 1 - A = D hours free on a workday, -1 hour for travel to and from work, I would continue to make B bits a week, which went straight into my budget, and I had (C * 15) + D hours a week to do what I wanted, not included time left over for sleep. If I got up at 8 AM every morning, seeing as I got off at 5 and would arrive home between 5:30 and 6, depending on how late I get off and traffic to and from my place of living. I was awake for an average of 15 hours a day, 8 + 4 = 12, 15-4 = 11, or, I slept from 11PM to 8AM every day, on average, as I’m sure I’ll sleep less weekends and probably more after long days, especially Mondays. I hated Mondays.
Anyways, I should get about 9 hours of sleep, which was plenty for someone who could run off 5 hours and wouldn’t sleep more than 10 hours.
After a brief mental recap, I concluded I needed a fillyfriend to fill my time with as my hobbies allowed me as much time as I wanted and they were pretty cheap. So they didn’t draw too much from Y, which left me Y-HobbyMoney = FillyMoney;
wonderful, since when did I put a ; at the end of my thoughts. I was reasserting java into my thoughts. I groaned. Java was great for statements, math assertions, whatever. But it simply would not do if my greeting went back to isalive();
I shuddered. Yep, I remembered those days. They weren’t that bad but they got weird sometimes. Ya ever greeted someone with an if statement, complete with boolean expression?
I shook my head, and tried to concentrate on slowing my thoughts down. I’d never get to sleep at this rate and I needed that sleep, even if it did absolutely nothing for my looks or my sanity, it was still sleep.
Sleep was Escape . It was time spent where I wasn’t running, where my mind was free from the constant subjugation I enforced upon it at every living second so that I could continue to function in the real world without too much trouble. Of course, sleep had it’s downsides. I had a habit of having nightmares on nights like this. After wearing myself down thinking too much, I’d go into a depressive state to recover. Sleep, have a nightmare, and wake up between 3 and 5 crying my eyes out and wishing I could just die. My dreams tended to be lucid enough; I didn’t have my full thought process but I could control them to some extent. My big problem was that they were terrifying recreations of my worst fears written in such a way as I could believe them. I could recount two or three different scenarios I know are dreams without a doubt that I cannot distinguish from my actual memories of my past, which is one of the reasons I suppressed it so strongly. If your memories were inseparable from your worst nightmares, how much would you choose to recall?
I shuddered again. I was going to lose myself. I turned on the television screen and loaded up a solo zombie survival game, nothing like screaming and running from hordes of the undead all by yourself to get your mind off the wolves in your mind, right? Nothing like it.
Ch-3 Nothing and Everything, All at Once
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I stare at the small screen, my bloodshot eyes focused upon it to the exclusion of all else. My roommate had come in sometime around 1 or 2, stared me down as I completed yet another round of zombie conquest, grumbled something about how he was going to be the first victim of the trotting dead and then promptly collapsed into his bed. His body was stinking of alcohol and vomit and thankfully not marecum. I hated when he came back smelling like that. It smelled pretty bad after a few hours of sitting around and it only furthered his stereotypical nature. I might have believed I had little chance finding a mate but I still wasn’t going to abuse something as intimate as sex. I’d find someone eventually and if I didn’t, I’d die a virgin. So what? I wasn’t going to be a dirty slut that would sleep with anyone. I had standards and right now, those standards told me to get back to shooting zombies as I had finally achieved the power of the pack-a-buck.
After about 4AM, I had managed to have a 40+ minute game on every major map, which I found as a nice accomplishment. I had also perfected the out of map glitches on the sanitarium, the testing facility, and on Lunaris. Even though I hated it, I had managed to survive the death box for ten minutes.
Finally, I succumbed to sleep. I shut off the system, frustrated at my last round only lasting a measly few minutes, and collapsed onto my bed, whereupon I started sleeping almost immediately.
I woke up at around 10AM to the sun’s ethereal beauty shoving its divine light deep into my eyelids. Yep, I hated windows. I lay in bed for a few hours, rolling every so often as to face away from the window. My eyes hurt, my head hurt, and most importantly, I felt an intense ache of emptiness. I again thought, I need a fillyfriend. And yet again, there was no angelic choir singing as some divine beauty appeared, one that would help me conquer a raging morning wood or devour my aching need for companionship, and I was again left unsatisfied.
Whatever, I decided. I cracked my eyes open slowly and joyfully noted that Hoops was not, in fact, still in the room. My euphoria was quickly shattered when I noticed the shower running.Shit, no hot water for me. I’d have to wait forever for the hot water heater to fill back up. I groaned, got up, and made my way to the mini fridge I had set off to one side. I had no worry of Hoops taking anything. He had long ago been convinced that it had nothing but water in it and had also agreed to buy it when I moved out as he still had another few semesters before he was out of here.
I didn’t think he was a bad kid, just… overly normal. I didn’t get along with normal people and I had learned to accept that, play nice, and try not to upset their morals too much.
After fetching and then downing a water bottle and grabbing a second for continued sipping, I sat on my bed, dumped out my saddle bags and went through them. As I had been up for a few minutes already and I was already aware that today was going to be a boring day filled with mundane, trivial tasks, I decided that I needed another tea cafe to haunt. Having just one was plebish and I also needed to go back through the apartments and see if one of them had something that the others didn’t.
I went through my inventory of items. Mainly just useful things I had collected, bought, and ‘acquired’ over the years. For the most part, it was just baubles, pens, markers, a few pencils, an art pad, and a few guitar picks. Nothing special. I had a neat collection of knives and a few throwing knives I had created slitted slots for in the front of my saddlebags in quick reach of my wings. The cheap, sentimental knife that was perpetually hooked in the left side front pocket of the bags in a pocket meant for cups. Opposite of it sat a ‘boot knife’ style blade that I could use with my mouth. I had a larger tanto in the area between my left side and my saddlebags. I kept it in a sheath I had sewn into the bag and then covered in the same material as the inside of the bag to prevent the wearing down of my coat. A small, mouth-wielded pistol sat in a holster opposite it, the shag of my coat doing well to hide both of those armaments. Carrying all that made me feel safe in a way nothing else could. I felt ready for anything. I didn’t take the gun to school, obviously. That would get me thrown in jail and especially because gun ownership was frowned upon and heavily restricted in this area. I was just barely of age and wasn’t ‘supposed’ to take the thing out of my house but pish-posh. I was going to be safe, screw rules.
Anything, in this case, happened to be a trek back out to the city, wherein I intended to have another look at those apartments. As I hadn’t had a look at any of their interiors just the more technical information, I had little concern as to something so mundane as aesthetics. I was much more worried about the utilitarian aspects of life or again in this situation, apartments. I cleared out the miscellaneous items I had found in my bag; some chocolate peanuts that had disappeared into the depths, dirt, some used notes, trash, and the usual scattered items one found in their bags. I reorganize my essentials and then the non-essentials. After a total of about ten minutes, I had achieved organization.
My mind had achieved a measure of calm which was refreshing. I kept a steady pace towards the city, following the now familiar path through some rural version of suburbia. I don’t pass much of anything interesting on the trip but I do notice that there’s a ‘cards & games’ shop on the same strip as the tea cafe I frequent. I’d have to check that out later but for now, I simply continued on my way. Ignoring both that and the tea cafe, who’s name as I should mention, was ‘Tranquil Tinctures and Calming Concoctions.’ A name I must say I liked a great deal. I passed the tea shop though. Today I simply didn’t have the motivation or desire to stop at that place, perhaps on my return trip, as the drink did wonders for my thought process. At least until the tea was gone. My goal today was to make a return to the apartments I had scouted out earlier and decided which one I felt would fit my needs most adequately.
I had a realization, at that moment, that I already didn’t mind the longer walk from the college to the city. The pricier apartments that were closer to the heart of the city could be crossed off the list.
That left only two. Two apartment buildings to choose from, two potential homes. I shook my head and tried to comprehend the meaning of it. Alone, on my own, paying my own rent, in my own house, all by myself.
Yeah, there would be moments where it sucked. Like in the middle of the night, when my inner demons confronted me. Or like last night, after I shut everything off and all I could see where the endless hordes still chasing me. There’s a certain time of night, somewhere between 3 and 5 AM, where I start to lose it, no matter if I’m up early or late. If I’m tired or wide awake. I get paranoid, really paranoid. I start having really weak hallucinations that felt like prophetic premonitions. They usually involve some horror that I’d exposed myself lately. I was browsing through a photo store once and chanced upon a picture something that looked like a pony that had lost all their legs and had them replaced with metal stilts, it was wearing some sort of black vest thing, with a lot of straps. It looked like a containment suit or something and it had a gas mask on, looking directly at the camera. That still haunts me to this very day. Where is my mummy? Are you my mummy? Yep, no fun.
Being alone wasn’t fun either. I liked having life around. It reminded me that I wasn’t the sole survivor of the nuclear fallout. Not that I had proof of such things but I tended to lose grasp of reality while alone. Well, that and scratching one’s own itch got pretty monotonous after a while.
Back to the story, I wasn’t as tired as one properly should have been after six hours of sleep and I blame nothing but experience. I was used to being sleep deprived and as long as it wasn’t habitual, it was only a small pull from my resources. I scouted the both of the apartments and here is what I concluded.
The first apartment block was rather nice. It was set in a moderate part of town, there were a few higher end apartments within vicinity of it and there was everything one needed within about a mile of it but it was in the city. The pricing, well, I suck at describing the process or worth of bits but a cheap, one room hotel room was worth about forty five. A candy bar was worth one and an entry level guitar was a hundred. The apartments were in the eleven to thirteen hundred bit a month range. Being on the lower end, but still in the city proper. This one was about twelve hundred and it’s tenants, or what I had seen of them, were decent enough folk. I didn’t see anyone that struck me as being too low class not that I had anything against poor ponies, I just didn’t trust them as a whole. Too many thieves, criminals and other muck like that amongst them. For that reasoning though, I didn’t trust rich ponies either, too many arrogant bastards with no humility that would do anything to add even a marginal amount of cash to their paycheck. There really wasn’t anything too good or bad about this one. I guess the biggest drawback was going to be in the rooms which, after talking to a manager, I managed to have a look at. They were, as you’d expect, bare average, a bedroom, a living room,kitchen, and a bathroom. All bare. The paint wasn’t in too bad condition, the drywall was still in one piece, the mud hadn’t cracked a ton, the baseboards were in good repair. Afew of the doors creaked and there was a hole behind one of them where the handle had been smashed repeatedly through the wall. The bathroom had obviously seen some use and wasn’t exactly a designer’s daydream but it was serviceable. I told the manager I would have to think about it and I’d have a response to him in the next few days if I would take it.
I made my way to the remaining apartment block whose rent was thirteen hundred a month and was in a remarkably similar area. The big difference, as I assumed while making the trek between them, would be the conditions and size of the apartment itself. The first one, as I should mention, was somewhere in the 500 square hoof range. I didn’t have much care. I was used to a life of compactness and didn’t mind having to stuff my… stuff.
The second apartment, although one hundred bits more expensive, the tenants reflected that. As most seemed to be about where I was not doing awesome but definitely not outspending themselves; your typical lower middle class ponies I guess. After speaking with the manager, and getting access to a room, I had myself a look around and noted pretty much the same. However as predicted, those bits went somewhere. The doors had stoppers and there weren’t any holes behind them, which was nice. Everything else was in your generally predictable average apartment state of repair; the bathroom was just a shower, a toilet, a small sink with a mirror and a medicine cabinet. All in all, I wasn’t sure what the big difference between the two apartments was but I didn’t think it was going to make too much a difference. I guessed the most notable differences would be the showerheads, the internet speed, the water heater, and the large kitchen appliances. But that was fine. I’d live with it for the extra spending money.
I thanked the manager for his time and began the long trek home. I felt like I had something else I needed to do but I couldn’t put my mind on what it would be. Instead, I stopped by the tea shop out of habit and learned, to my pleasant surprise, that they served coffee too. Which was awesome because I needed coffee right then and right there. After getting my coffee and sharing an awkward moment with the waitress I previously described as she happened to notice me watching her when she brought me my drink. Mild, nervous blushing all around. What fun. I did however, take the opportunity to note that she didn’t have any necklace or or horn ring or brace. I did mention she was a unicorn right? No? I just did. And she was a sleek one at that but anyways, nothing of that sort.I now had coffee which left me in a bubbly mood as I made my trip home. Perhaps it was time for me to try and get to know her beyond just frequently having her as my waitress.
On pure chance, the tea shop didn’t have a lot of wait-staff.
I walked home with a bit of a bounce in my step, I had a good feeling about things, I felt hopeful for my future, I was taking my life into my own control, and now, nothing could stop me.