Five weeks. Thirty-five days. That's thirty-five times I've gone to that table. Thirty-five times I've waited. Thirty-five times I wished... I wished I could see her again.
"Sir, are you going to order?"
"Oh! Uh, yeah. Just water."
The waiter nodded his head and trotted back inside. I just sat there, looking melancholy. I missed her, my princess, my angel, my marefriend.
I remember the first time we met thanks to a good friend. She looked cute with her raven mane and tail, her cookie cutie mark, and her lustrous blue eyes. How we talked and laughed,
