The text arrives two seconds after I shove a burrito into my mouth. My phone pings, Twilight’s name flashes on the screen, and I suck in so much air that a chunk of refried beans comes with it. Once the coughing stops, though, I have to slap both hands against my cheeks and curse.

Okay. It’s been, what, twelve hours since my… revelation? Less? Epiphany? More? Suspicion? And I haven’t heard from her since last night, either; she’s left town, gone upstate with her family.

But here are the facts: I’m stupid and prone to delusions of grandeur. Goddess knows I can’t trust my brain at any time, and especially after midnight. So anything I might have thought last night – about Twi, about myself, whoever – is basically null and void. Psychosomatic.

Right?

I wouldn’t have ever felt this way about a text from Twi before, though. Never had my hair stand up on end just reading her name.

I just miss her, is all. I’m tricking myself into thinking it’s anything more.

It’s been less than a day since I saw her, though. And she’s coming back on Saturday.

Am I that co-dependent? Or—

Another text comes, and with it another ping and another jolt of adrenaline.

I scoop my phone up off the couch and open the messages.

Hi

Hi

Simple enough. Weird of her to double-text, though.

Hiiiiiiiiii

What’s up

Out of the car yet?

That’s the sort of thing I’d usually text, yeah?

The gray “person is typing” bubble appears for a few seconds, then disappears, then returns again. And then, with another ping:

Butts

Yeah, she’s got a great butt.

Don’t type that or I’ll kill you, me.

Yes I agree

Butts

But what about them

The gray bubble reappears before I can finish typing.

🤔🫡🤔🤫😠😰😤😇🤣🤣😰😘😼😾😼😼🤖👻👻👹👹🤕🗣️🧠👁️👣👣👁️🧠

😇🤣🤣😍😙🙂‍↔️😎🧐😋🥰😍😌🤓😕😕😒😏🙂‍↕️😔🙂‍↕️🐱🐱🐱🐭🐭🐭🐭🐱🐭🐱🐭🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐻🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐶🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱🐻🐱🐱🐱🐱🐱

Uh

Are you okay

The way I see you are not a fan but you have been on the right path for many times now you have no shame in your own words you have been doing the same for many times and I hope that your life will come back in your favor I am very happy for your success I am happy to be here and you have a good night my friend and thank your love I hope your family is safe I hope your night is going good I hope to be happy happy birthday birthday I hope you’re doing good I hope you’re doing great and happy Easter I hope you’re doing a good job and happy Mother and happy Mother and Mother and Mother Mother’s Mother Day to all the

Twi contains multitudes. But right now, either the car ride upstate has driven her stir crazy, or someone’s stolen her phone.

Or maybe she got her brain melted by some rogue Equestrian magic. Goddess, I hope not — I’ve got enough regrets already.

Who is this

Alt: A blurry photo, mostly taken up by an opaque blue blob. Yellow fingers stick out from the top of the frame. A few lines in the colors of Twilight Sparkle’s hair stick out from the top-left corner, along with a tiny lavender splotch.

I bring the phone close to my face, squinting to make out anything solid in the multicolored swirl I’ve just received. The purplish-pink in the corner… that’s Twilight’s ear? Finger? Why does it look like the camera lens is covered in grease?

But just as I’m starting to make out some details in the garbled pixels, the picture disappears. Then the message above it disappears, and then the emojis, and then everything else.

Then the gray typing bubble comes back. And it lasts for a full minute before another text rolls in.

HELLO. IGNORE ANY TEXT YOU RECEIVE FROM ME FOR THE NEXT TWO DAYS UNLESS IT CONTAINS THE SOLUTION TO THE EQUATION 134.63 * x = 269.26

DO NOT RESPOND WITH THE ANSWER. AT LEAST TWO EYES ARE WATCHING.

I take a few seconds to work out the equation before realizing I’m an idiot.

Is this a reference to something or are you serious

THIS IS NOT A DRILL. THIS IS A LEVEL TWO “MY MOM IS MAKING ME LET MY COUSINS PLAY ON MY PHONE” EMERGENCY. MY SANITY AND POSSIBLY LIFE ARE AT RISK.

Ah. That explains the butts.

Twi doesn’t talk much about her relatives. I know she’s got some aunts and uncles, something called a “godmother,” and at least two cousins — twins, a boy and a girl, only a few years old. I also know that she’s spending the next few days crammed into a wooden cabin with the rest of her family.

I might get lonely sometimes in this crummy apartment, but even I can do without the mandatory yearly family bonding trips. Still, the thought of Twi leaping over furniture, desperately snatching her phone away from two drool-splattered rugrats, makes me smile. Do her parents let her use telekinesis on them, I wonder?

I understand

Good luck

THANK YOU2

And that’s that.

But I’m aching. I feel like a starving dog, chained to a pole with a juicy steak just barely out of reach. I want more Twi.

More time talking with her, I mean. Talking with the juicy steak. Juicy girl. Girl. Friend. Friend that just happens to be a girl. Dork.

Someone needs to put me down.

I lean back on the couch and hold the phone above my head. It’s on max brightness, and staring into the white background of the texting app burns my corneas.

What can I say to start a conversation? Needs to be something casual but funny, cool but engaging enough to spark some banter…

The amateur improv troupe that panhandles in the back alleys of my mind hands me a piece of paper.

If you die though can I have your big telescope

I’m so good at being funny.

It takes a few moments for the texting bubble to reappear.

🤔🫡😬😐🫥😐😨🫡🙄😲🙄😲🤔🤗😮‍💨🤫😮‍💨🫤😮‍💨🫤😮‍💨🤒😯🙄🤢😐🥴🙄🥴🤒😐🥴😐🙄😬😈👿👿😬😬🤕😯😪🤫😮‍💨🤫😮‍💨😪🤐😨😪🤔😪🤔😪

I drop my phone, stuff the last bits of burrito into my mouth, and slump over onto my side.

“Psychosomatic,” I say through the refried beans. “Psychosomatic.”

Author's Note

And the longest August of all time finally comes to an end.

I wonder what other story I’ve read where Twilight has annoying twin cousins?