The family-size apartment was silent and dark in the late summer night. Nearly everypony was asleep.
The living room was empty and the sagging, well-loved but musty-smelling sofa and chairs had grown cold. The squat, wide table before it was covered with a spread of dirty plates and glasses, silverware cluttered about, neglected during the evening's heartfelt conversation hours earlier.
Across the room the window was open. The cool air that gently pushed at the inherited and well-out-of-style curtains would have been a welcome reprieve from the near-suffocating heat that the season brought to the apartment building, had anypony been in the room. The glow of a city that never sleeps cast long shadows and its streetside bustle—softened by the evening, but not sedated—echoed up from far below.
Opposite the window, a hallway led deeper into the home, lined with a handful of simple, identical doors. Light poured out from beneath a single one, cutting the darkness cleanly in two. A muttering voice bled out from the crack as well, interrupting the home's near-perfect quietness.
"Just a little, almost there..."
Behind the door, a young mare repositioned herself, leveraging her weight over the opening of a bulging cardboard box with a grunt.
"C'mon—you—stupid—ugh!"
A few strands of light brown mane fell across the mare's face but the pile of crumpled, unfolded sheets gave way just enough. A sand-tan hoof swatted at the box's flaps, bringing their edges together while another snatched a bit of tape and slapped it across the seam. It held just long enough to be joined by three more siblings, sealing the pile of bedding's fate.
The young mare let out a huff and fell back on her haunches, sending a few stray feathers fluttering. Her sharp blue eyes crossed for a moment, focusing on the blurry strands of mane snaking their way across her vision. She sighed again, brushed them up behind her ear, and looked down at the box. 'SHEETS' its face announced in quick, sloppy writing.
She rose to her hooves and pushed it aside, fitting it into the pile of similar cardboard boxes that occupied the corner of her room between 'BOOKS' and 'MISC'.
The young mare straightened up and looked around the room she'd occupied since she was a little filly. It seemed alien, almost, in its emptiness. The window gaped, unobscured by gently-flowing curtains. Her desk was gone, given away to the neighbors. The sky-blue walls seemed naked and bare without nearly two decades of awards and scribbly drawings and treasured photos pinned across them. Her bed had been disassembled, its frame leaned up against the wall. Only her old mattress remained, clad in a spare sheet and an extra pillow that her parents could keep and wash after she had gone.
It felt like there was so much more to do. Anxious, near-manic kind energy still fluttered in her chest and she inspected every corner of the room, but all her things were all packed and ready to go.
A gust of wind brought cool relief across her back and through her mane but the young mare still felt too tight. Remember what Breezie taught you, she thought to herself, pulling in a deep breath through her nose. She held it for a moment, tried to remember the city-street-and-aging-paint smell before it was gone, and let it out in a long, slow whoosh.
Breezie... she pushed the memory away before it could do any more damage. Focus on the here and now, Sandy.
"Almost there," she muttered. "You can do this." But it won't be easy. You have to tell him.
The fire escape outside her window clanked and clapped, shattering the peace in her room. The young mare's shoulders bunched and her ears flattened against her mane. Of course. How could I expect anything else?
The fire escape remained painfully silent for a moment more before she heard a short series of careful, much quieter clinks. Then a young stallion popped into view, a sheepish blush spread across his grimacing sea-green face. "Sorry!" he squeaked.
She fixed a half-lidded look on him.
"I know, I know, you've told me a thousand times, but I couldn't help it!" He offered an embarrassed grin. "I was in too much of a hurry! Gotta get as much time with you as possible!"
There it was, that romantic streak of his. A smirk cracked through the mare's façade and she rolled her eyes. "Hey, Swift, you goofball. You probably woke them up."
The grin grew to a wide smile and the colt's soft blue eyes glittered. "Sandy, you let me off the hook way too often."
She tilted her head. "Who said you were off the hook?" She couldn't help but giggle at the way his eyebrows jumped up, disappearing underneath a mane that matched his eyes. She trotted to the light switch by the door and flicked it with the tip of her hoof, plunging most of the room into shadow, save for a city-lit stripe across its middle. "Come on, let's take off before I get another lecture."
The freshly shadow-drenched colt stepped to the side, the lights outside flowing around his form. "After you, cutie." Sandy could hear the smile in his voice.
It was a ritual at this point. Sandy slunk out the window, placing her hooves on the wrought-iron platform with as much care as she could manage. As she passed the sea-green colt she pecked him on the cheek and relished in the way his smile widened. "Quietly, remember," she whispered. He responded with only an exuberant nod.
The young mare hopped over the metal rail in a clean, tight arc. The grip of freefall jump-started her heart and she let the cool night air whip over her coat for just a moment before snapping out her wings.
There had been times where Swift would dash ahead of her, shooting that charming-yet-horribly-self-satisfying smirk over his shoulder, the nights where she'd shout an "Oh, no you don't!" at the top of her lungs and take off after him in a dipping, dodging, wonderfully exhausting race above the city streets and through the countless alleyways and gaps that they knew how to bank through just right.
Tonight was not one of those nights, but the memories tugged at Sandy's heart a little as she banked into the open space before the building she'd grown up in and began to climb.
The two ascended wingbeat by wingbeat. The young mare didn't need to glance over her shoulder to know that Swift would be right on her tail, and just as she cleared the lip of the apartment building's roof and set herself down, the colt fluttered into a landing of his own right beside her. He made that flourish with his tail as he did, flicking his tail and his ears in that adorable little way of his.
It sent a spike into her chest.
"Ah, home sweet home," he said, a coltish grin still smeared across his muzzle. Sandy hummed a noncommittal response and tugged her eyes away, desperate for something else to look at.
There wasn't much... or at least, there wasn't anything new up on the building's rooftop. Aside from the little building with the stairway door, the lounge chairs somepony had set up earlier in the summer were still there, that new family's clothesline was empty, and Ms. Shorthoof's flowers were doing fine, as usual—an earth pony doesn't put up with such a ridiculous amount of stairs just to keep a sub-par garden, after all. Of course, underneath a small lean-to awning, their little pile of private bedding waited.
Sandy Hills watched as Swift Stitch made his way across the roof, picking his way around the plants, and tossed a couple blankets onto his back. He didn't have that distinct spring in his step, that was reserved for more heated nights, but he still gave her a warm smile as he made his way back.
He'd returned before she knew it, and the smile turned into more of a smirk. "Thanks for the help, little miss stares-a-lot."
The young mare found herself blinking rather dumbly. "Oh, sorry, I, um... Yeah, sorry." She finished it off with a pathetic laugh.
Swift chuckled. "It's fine. I bet you have a lot on your mind. Can't blame you for that." He stepped past her, completely unaware of the coldness his words had put in her heart. Sandy pushed it away as fast as she could and followed, hoping he hadn't noticed.
A ledge ran around the corners of the rooftop, flat enough and wide enough for a pony to comfortably lay down. They made to do just that, trotting up to the edge and spreading the blankets over the concrete's gritty roughness. The old quilt they'd hauled up last year still did a wonderful job muting the tingly aches that came with the floor, and really, by this point, they were both used to it, settling themselves onto the cushioning with a practiced and eager slump.
Without a word, Swift raised a wing and Sandy sidled up against him, nuzzling the crook of his neck. The wing settled across her back, its soothing warmth seeping into her coat, and yet... it wasn't quite as warm as she remembered.
The young mare sighed, crossing her front hooves on the curved lip of the rooftop and settling her chin atop them. A tired smile spread across her face. "Mmm... that's nice."
"Yeah, it really is." Swift hummed. It felt like his barrel shook with every word when they were pressed together. She leaned in and gave him a deep kiss. It was a little while before they separated.
They let the city hum away below them for a little while. Sandy had always found it relaxing, lying at the edge of the roof and looking down at the ponies going about their life. Of course, this late at night, the Manehattan streets were much less crowded, but the odd pony or cart still made their way down the road every now and then, and interestingly, the night was often the only time you could catch the strangest, most fascinating city-goers.
Oh, here comes one now. Sandy studied the pony who had just trudged around a street corner far below. The unicorn was rather eye-catching, to be honest, with his black-and-orange mane. The bone-white doctor's coat only made him stick out like a sore hoof.
She cocked an eyebrow as she watched him examine the crumpled-looking sheet of paper that floated before him. The odd unicorn stared at it for a solid thirty seconds, looked around while scratching his head, stared for another thirty seconds, and finally picked a direction.
He trotted away for all of five steps, stopped in his tracks, re-examined his paper for another thirty seconds, and turned around, trudging back the way he came.
The young stallion pressed up against her made a low chuckle. "Think we should fly down there and give him a hoof?"
Sandy giggled. "Seems to me like he's got it all under control."
Swift laughed a little at that and gave the side of her head a nuzzle. "Poor guy. Hope he finds what he's looking for."
"Yeah..."
A silence passed. Sandy listened to the wind as it flowed between the buildings, tugging gently at her mane. A pegasus pulling a cart passed overhead, and at the top of the world, the moon glowed in the sky, brilliant and full, bathing the little rooftop in its pale light. The Mare in the Moon seemed to be studying her. Was she encouraging? Judging?
Come on, Sandy. Get a hold of yourself.
"Um," Sandy began, struggling to drag words out of a mental quagmire, "things get any better for the store?"
"Ah. They've been, um..." Her coltfriend raised his head and studied his hooves. "Uh, no. Not better." When he huffed, Sandy caught a stray bit of some hidden frustration. A long day at his family's business, then.
"Did they end up having to pull Satin out of school?"
He relaxed a little. "No, thank Celestia, but she still hates doing her homework. Tries to squirm out of doing it every chance she gets." Swift rolled his eyes, smiling a little. "Little brat has no clue how hard we're bending over backwards for her."
The young mare put a hoof over his, pressing her head against his neck. So warm... "She'll understand when she's older. She'll be so thankful then. Hey, Just imagine all the bragging you'll get to do when she's rich and successful thanks to you working your tail off."
He laughed at that. "I'll cash in all my big brother chips then. Maybe she'll dress me up in a nice three-piece and take me to one of those Canterlot galas."
Sandy smirked and lightly jabbed him with her elbow. "I'm sure you'll fit right in."
"I'd show those Canterlot dorks how a real city parties," Swift said with a snort. "They wouldn't know what hit 'em."
She snickered, trying to imagine the working-class pony all spruced up in a fancy suit and bumping into aristocrats and nobleponies as he showed 'em how it was done. "I'd pay to see it."
"Ha! Yeah," he said. "Hey, remember when Satin caught us sneaking out?"
The memory thrust itself into her mind. If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe that she was back in Swift's family's home, frozen in the middle of the hallway, caught red-hooved by a tottering little filly. "As if I could forget. I thought my face would catch on fire, I was blushing so hard."
"Yeah, me too," he grumbled. "You remember how long she made me agree to do her chores for?"
"Two months!" Sandy said without missing a beat. "I could hardly forget. You mentioned it every chance you got."
He huffed a laugh. "Yeah, I guess I did. She's gonna be some cut-throat businesspony or something, I swear." Then he grew quiet, humming in thought. "It's been a while since we snuck out, huh? Kinda felt like the old days trying not to wake up your parents."
Sandy smiled. "I'm not going to say I'd rather be risking a grounding to see you, but... it was kind of exciting, wasn't it?"
"Psh! You didn't have anything to worry about." He bumped her with his wing. You almost never got caught!"
"Almost. You remember when my dad caught us making out in my room?"
"I thought he was gonna tear my head off with his bare hooves." She felt him shiver against her. "There was death in those eyes..."
"Well, you know he almost made me break up with you?"
His head snapped around in an instant, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping as if she'd raised a hoof and smacked him across the face. "What?" he cried. "He did?"
Sandy burst out laughing at the shock painted across her coltfriend's face. "Ha! I'm sorry, I–" she managed between giggles, "It's just—your face!"
He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, missy. Go ahead." He was grinning, though.
Sandy brushed a stray bit of mane out of her face as the last of the chuckles petered out. "He really did, just after he kicked you out. Sat me down right there in my room and said: 'Sandy, I don't think you should see him anymore.'" She put on her best impression of her father's stern, imposing tone.
Swift whistled. "No kidding..."
"Mm-hmm. I think it was just his dad instincts, though. I was able to talk him down... eventually."
"But I wasn't allowed to see you for three weeks..."
Sandy chuckled a little. "That was my idea. Only way I got him to agree. Good thing he warmed up to you in the end, though, huh?"
"Yeah," he muttered, "things really have changed since then..."
Sandy didn't quite have anything to say to that. She bit her lip, and after a bit of silence, Swift sighed pressed his head against hers.
"I can't believe you're really leaving."
She swallowed. No, too soon, too soon! "It's... a big step."
"It won't be easy, you know, going off all on your own." He pulled away and studied her with those caring blue eyes. "How are you feeling about it? You think you're ready?"
Sandy looked down and studied the stripey-plaid pattern on the topmost blanket. Here it comes. "Um... as ready as I'll ever be, I guess."
The colt huffed. "That idiot Glimmerhoof wouldn't stop yammering at me today. Kept telling me how hard it was going to be, the whole long-distance thing."
It was like somepony forced an icicle right into her heart. She nearly gasped for breath. "Oh, I–"
"Like I don't know how to write letters or find time to visit!" he fumed. "The jerk tried to put his hoof around my shoulders too, like he was some kind of wise sage or something, pretending he knew so much more than me."
Her stomach churned. She tried not to be sick off the edge of the roof. "Swift, I'm–"
"I almost wiped that stupid smirk off his face, you know. I pushed him away and I was all like 'I swear to Celestia, Glimmerhoof, if you touch me, I'm going to puke and then die.'"
"Swift!" Sandy cried, pushing herself away. The colt blinked and looked down at her as she shuffled out from under his wing. "I—I don't think I want to."
He gaped at her for a moment. "...Don't want to do what?" he said, his voice quiet.
Now or never, Sandy. "A... long-distance thing."
Swift Stitch froze, his mouth half-open and his eyes locked on hers, in a moment that seemed to last forever.
An ache began to build in Sandy's chest, growing as time stretched on and on. Isn't getting something off my chest supposed to make me feel better? She bit her lip and her eyebrows drew together as she struggled to hold his stare.
He blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he closed his mouth. Then he swallowed. "Oh."
Sandy took a deep, shuddering breath and fought to keep tears from her eyes. "I'm really sorry, Swift."
The colt looked away, turning to face the building across the way. Slate-gray, with unadorned windows arranged in a neat, clean grid all down its front. Sandy had always thought it looked terribly empty and cold.
He isn't saying anything. Why isn't he saying anything?"...Swift?"
He coughed. "No, I, ah..." He shuffled his wings on his back, still looking straight ahead. "I, um... guess I shouldn't... be surprised. You've always been pretty independent." He swallowed. "And, uh, you've been distant for a... few weeks, so that makes sense if you've been worrying about, um... this."
"I–" Sandy cut herself off, watching the muscle in his jaw clench. "I'm sorry, Swift."
He turned to her and looked her dead in the eye. "Why not?" he asked in a voice that didn't have an edge but had gotten awfully close. "Why not try it? I know it's supposed to be hard, but–"
Sandy cut him off with a shake of her head. "It wouldn't be the same. I just... I just don't want to."
"So what if I came with you?" he said without missing a beat.
The question forced Sandy's gaze away. "I couldn't make you do that."
"You wouldn't be making me do anything. I want to go with you anyway, this would be better."
She frowned. "Where would you get the money, Swift? My scholarship only covers me. How would you even get out of the city? Or find a place to stay?"
"I have stuff I can sell," he said hastily, "and I have some favors I can cash in. I can make this work. I'll fly by myself if I have to."
"What about your family? How would they run the business?"
He huffed. "I've been working there my whole life. They can manage. They'll hire out. I'm sure I'm not the only stallion in Manehattan with a needle and thread for a cutie mark."
"You know that the store is struggling. What if they have to pull Satin out of school?"
Now there was a frown on his face, too. "You know I wouldn't let that happen. I'd—I'd find work, and send bits back somehow." He scooted a little closer, taking her hooves in his. "I'd follow you anywhere, Sandy."
"No, Swift!" The young mare did her best to swallow the rock in her throat. "No. I... don't want you to." His stare felt like it was searing right through her soul. "I'm really sor–"
"Don't," he said, just a tiny bit harshly. "Don't apologize, explain. Why not? Was it something I did, or, or something I said? Did I–"
"No! No, of course not," she said hurriedly, looking down at their hooves. She gave one of his a squeeze. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then... why?"
She took a deep breath. "I–" she began, stopping when she realized she didn't have any clue what to say. It felt like she had gone over this moment in her head a million times. She'd written countless speeches in her head, she'd found the perfect words to make him know exactly how she felt without breaking his heart... and without resorting to 'It's not you, it's me.'
It all deserted her now, leaving her feeling helpless and alone.
The young mare looked out over the city. It glowed in the night, nearly drowning out the stars above with its brilliant lights. Only a few managed to shine through, twinkling in the sky. The Mare in the Moon shone as confidently as ever as she stared back down at Sandy, waiting for her to speak with endless patience.
"I'm done with this," she finally managed, waving a hoof at the city. "All of it. It may sound selfish or stupid, but... I'm done with... here. I grew up in this city. I've lived here my whole life. Downtown, the harbor, the borough... I know it like the back of my hoof, but..."
Sandy looked down at the streets, watching as a peach-colored unicorn plodded into the hotel down the way, dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her. How did that mare's life lead her to the middle of Manhattan in the dead of night? What problems is she facing, I wonder? Are they anything like mine?
She took another breath and continued. "But I don't know anything else. I can count the number of times I've left this place on two hooves, for Celestia's sake. I don't want to live my whole life here, living the same as I always have. And, um... Breezie."
Swift nodded at that, looking a little numb, and she continued.
"I... I want to leave it all behind when I go. It's not that I want to start over completely, I just... don't want to be tied down." She blew out a long breath, puffing out her cheeks. "So, I'm done with my life here."
"And that includes me," Swift said.
Sandy lowered her head. "Yeah. That includes you."
He didn't respond, but he didn't pull his hooves away either. He simply breathed, in and out, in and out. The young mare tried to do the same as she waited, letting the silence stretch on as long as it needed to. His hooves are so warm. It feels nice.
"You remember how we met?" Swift said, his voice almost a whisper.
"You know I do," Sandy said, venturing a little smile. "I thought you were the dorkiest colt of your whole dorky crew."
He chuckled. "Remember how annoyed you were when Breezie started making us all hang out together?"
"I'm sure you would remind me if I gave you the chance, but I was even more annoyed when I realized I liked all the goofy things you did." Sandy rolled her eyes. "Remember how weird it was meeting your parents for the first time?"
Swift's little grin grew as he rolled onto his side. "Oh, you think that was weird for you? My family loved you right away! Your dad wouldn't stop staring at me." He beckoned her with a wing.
"To be fair, I didn't tell them we were special someponies until that morning," she said as she snuggled up to him, laying a hoof across his side as he wrapped his legs around her. "When you're an only child, your parents are so nosy with everything."
His wing covered her with a blanket of warmth. "Mm-hmm. Must be horrible, not having to share your parents' attention."
"Oh, hush."
He responded by planting a kiss on her forehead. "I don't know what I would have done if Breezie hadn't dragged me into your life. Always trying to be the matchmaker, that filly. Didn't help that she was so stinkin' good at it." She felt him draw in a long breath, then let it out in a drawn-out sigh. "I really miss her."
The familiar ache came back with force. It squeezed at her heart dreadfully, and she squeezed her big, warm, fluffy pillow even harder, trying to stifle her spontaneous tears. She willed away the biting chemical smell of the worst part of the hospital and struggled to speak through her tightening throat. "Me too."
His legs tightened around her, and Sandy snuggled a little closer, nuzzling into his neck and taking comfort in his warm, familiar scent. I'm going to miss feeling safe like this.
"I know you've been told this before, but... Gentle Breeze would be so proud of you. She'd be so freaking proud of you, Sandy. I know you're going to do amazing things."
The young mare choked out something that hopefully sounded more like a laugh than a sob. "I'm only learning to be a foal counselor, you know," she sniffed, "I'm not exactly going to become some famous pony or something."
"Ah, but it'll still be incredible, what you do. It'll be foal counseling beyond your wildest dreams, like a nonstop action-packed making-ponies'-lives-better ride." He chuckled at the huffing giggle she made but continued in a lower, softer voice. "I'm just... sorry that I can't be a part of it."
"I know," she said into his neck. "I'm sorry too."
"Don't be." He pressed his chin onto her mane. "I won't lie. This sucks, and I don't like it, but I get why you want to move on now." He scratched at his mane with the edge of his hoof. "I've noticed how you avoid the, um... spots where we used to hang out with her. I can't imagine what it's like to lose somepony so close. And hey, look at me." Sandy pulled away from his neck, meeting his shimmering eyes. "It wouldn't be right of me to keep you from what you want, and I—I just want you to be happy, no matter what. Even if I'm not there."
She nearly started crying on the spot. Instead, she pressed her head back into the crook of his neck and pulled herself as close as she could. "Swift..."
He only hugged her tight. She lay there with him for a long while, feeling his deep, even breaths and listening to his steady heartbeat.
She couldn't have said how much time passed before he spoke again. "I've always wondered what the stars look like without the city, you know."
Sandy made a questioning little hum into his fur.
"Ponies say the city skyline looks like it's full of stars, all lit up at night, but I just don't see it," he continued. "I've always wanted to go out during a new moon and find somewhere, out in the mountains or the forest or something, where nopony else is around. I'd wait 'till nighttime, and then I'd look up at the stars and finally see what I was missing. I want to know if it's like in the books, where the whole sky is just... covered in countless, endless stars."
"That sounds beautiful," Sandy said, her eyes closed.
"I bet it will be."
Sandy looked up at him "Huh?" she said, her eyebrows scrunched together.
"I know it sounds cheesy, but, um... sometime during your crazy journey of foal counseling, I want you to find a way to do that, okay? For me and Satin and all of us ponies stuck back home."
"Even Glimmerhoof?"
The colt rolled his eyes and groaned. "And him too, I guess."
Sandy giggled a little and hugged him as tightly as she could. "Of course I will, Swift."
"Good." Then he batted her on the head with the front of a wing.
"Mnh."
He bumped her again. "C'mon, get up."
"Nngh, stop, I said I would go see the stars."
"You'll get a better night of sleep at home than here on a roof. I know for a fact that these blankets aren't more comfortable than a mattress."
"M'bed's broken."
"My point still stands. Come on," he repeated, "you've got a big day ahead of you."
"I hate that you're right." Still, she groaned, stretched, and began to extricate herself from his legs. She moved carefully, bit by bit, making sure she didn't put too much of her weight on his legs as she moved, and in just a few moments, she was on her own four hooves, standing in the wind and feeling very, very cold.
The feeling only held her for a few breaths before she pushed it away and rolled up the blankets as Swift rose to his feet, groaning and stretching the legs Sandy had used as cushions. "Thanks," he said as he watched her carry the bedding over to its usual spot. She folded it beneath its little lean-to carefully, just as she had countless times before, and wondered if she'd ever do it again.
Then she was finished, and she made her way back to where Swift stood at the edge of the roof, looking out at the skyline. then he turned to her and studied her eyes, his mouth drawn into a thin line. "Sandy, I, um," he began, pausing for a moment while he searched for the right words, "Will I see you again? Before you leave?"
Sandy shook her head. "This is the best goodbye I can hope for, I think." Celestia, that sounds so pathetic.
Swift looked down at the concrete. "I, uh... really don't know what I'll do without you."
Her chest tightened. "I know it won't be easy... and I know that I must sound like a broken record by now, but I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I waited so long to tell you."
"No, no," he said, turning to her. His voice was gravelly and low. "I'm actually kind of glad you waited. I would have just, uh..." He blinked. "You saved me a little more heartache this way."
Sandy bit her lip. His eyes looked so... empty. It was haunting to see him like this. She stepped forward and planted a long, deep kiss on his lips. He pulled away sooner than she'd have liked.
"Goodbye, Swift," she said.
"Goodbye, Sandy. I hope you find what you're looking for out there. I really do." His smile barely reached his eyes. "Sandy, I... guess I'll see you around."
"Yeah," she said with a very soft voice, "I guess so."
He held her gaze for just a moment longer, studying her with those horribly soft blue eyes. She had just enough time to wonder what he was looking for before the young stallion turned and leapt off the roof.
And then he was gone.
Sandy's stomach churned as she stared out at the city's glittering skyline for a minute. "Definitely not like stars," she said to nopony before spreading her wings and taking flight.
The glide down to the fire escape passed in just a few aching heartbeats. Her hooves met the wrought iron with just a bit too much force and the angry metal clatter reverberated off the alley's brick walls. It's harder than it looks.
Her tired legs carried her over her windowsill and into a devastatingly sparse room. The cardboard boxes didn't bother to welcome her, so she flopped onto her mattress and pulled up the thin white sheet.
It felt much too cold for her liking.
Sandy lay there for an unmeasurable stretch, tossing and turning in the night—or probably, as she suspected, the very early morning. The night's words raced through her head over and over. She couldn't stop herself from seeing the look on Swift's face, the dullness in his eyes as he wished her well and turned away.
Will I ever see him again? Does he hate me? Did I do the right thing? she thought to herself for the umpteenth time. Would it have been better to tell him earlier? Was it selfish to wait so long?
Once again, she rolled over, suppressing a groan. It would have been wrong to say otherwise and let him believe. To lead him on. He would have figured out the lie eventually. That would have been worse, right?
Right?
She sucked in a lungful of cool night air and flopped back onto her stomach, shuffling her wings under the sheet. It's done either way. I should be looking forward. It's not good to fret over the past—I should know that by now.
A whole new world lay ahead of her. A whole new Equestria, far away from the staid chaos and choking memories of her home city, full of new ponies to meet and new unknowns to be surprised by, and all of it was just waiting for her to venture on ahead. After all, who knew what the future held?
Sandy huffed a tired, quiet laugh into the darkness. Foal counseling beyond my wildest dreams.
