Burnt eggs and toast filled the air. Plates clattered as Berry Punch sifted through the pile to look for a clean one. She recoiled as her hoof made contact with a mushy substance. A moldy lump had grown on the plate she touched. Her hoof pushed the plate aside and fished out a cleaner plate.

She eyed the plate’s surface. Seems clean enough. I’ll do the dishes later. Her ear flickered. Maybe.

The pan flipped over in her grasp and the charcoal contents landed onto the plate. She slid the well done toast out of the toaster and slathered butter over it.

Items clattered off the table as she made room for her measly meal. Three glasses of alcoholic finished the assembled late breakfast. Her eyes glanced at the clock. More like lunch. She dug into the wholly unsatisfying meal at a steady pace with drinks of alcohol to drown it in.

Her curtains were drawn, so the dining room table was awkwardly lit by one crystal light from the kitchen. The dim atmosphere didn’t matter much to her. She felt safe by the embrace of the closed off windows, even if they suffocated her too.

Something bugged her, something important. She couldn’t place why, but something felt wrong. Berry Punch shook her head. I’ll remember when I remember.

She went back to her food, and finished up the meal. Her stomach wasn’t full, but wouldn’t complain about a lack of food. Better than nothing like yesterday.

She set her now dirty plate on the crowded counter and walked into the living room.

Small paint cans were scattered and piled up haphazardly throughout the room. Some had their lids popped off and spilled onto the floor. This left multi-colored splotches of dried paint across the floor. Trash and other objects were spread through the room as well, some of it being shoved behind the couch. A wooden recreation of Manehatten was sitting precariously on the couch’s right arm. As Berry Punch sat down the object fell off onto its side and rolled under the couch. She didn’t notice it.

She popped the cap off the bottle on the table. She had picked up more cherry whiskey on her way home from work yesterday for her day off. The other two bottles were by her bed upstairs.

One glass.

Two glasses.

Three glasses.

The mare settled into a warm haze. She didn’t leave much space between drinks. She laid back as her eyes wandered the room. Twice they flicked over the clock.

12:30 than 1:00.

Time passed like sludge then suddenly rushed forwards. Berry Punch found the effect hard to think about. Then again thinking wasn’t what she wanted to do anyway. A stack of letters toppled over by the door. Who knew how many were in the stack, Berry Punch didn’t know, but she did know who they were from.

Flickers of guilt. She wondered how her parents found her address since she didn’t tell them. Every time she worked up the courage to try to send something back it was squashed by her own doubts. By this point, she didn’t have the will to even read them. I hope they’re doing alright.

Her gaze moved to the clock again. What’s bugging me so much? She furrowed her brows. Something about time? Am I missing something? I didn’t have anything planned… I didn’t, but Roseluck did! Celestia dammit! I promised Roseluck I’d be at her house at noon today. The clock read 1:30.She rushed off the couch and dropped her glass which spilled the remaining liquid onto the floor. Whatever, just another stain.

She entered the bathroom and found her brush. Then she struggled to get her tangled mane and tail under control before she gave up and focused on flattening out stray hairs out instead. Not enough time for this, we’ll just have to go looking like this. Berry Punch knew she looked terrible. My breath probably smells like alcohol too. She dug around her kitchen counters until she found a box of mints. She popped two into her mouth just to be safe.

She rushed out the door and made her way to Roseluck’s house. I don’t really have an excuse either. She lives next door. Internally Berry Punch was nervous and worried. She didn’t know how Roseluck would react. This was the first time somepony invited her for anything after her welcome party.

The front of Roseluck’s house was a well kept garden tucked on each side of the stairs. True to form an array of different colored roses grew from the beds. Some of which Berry Punch hadn’t seen before. She walked on to the white colored porch.

Nervously she knocked on the door and waited. I hope she’s not too mad. I should’ve kept better track of time.

“One moment!”

Berry Punch could hear movement as Roseluck approached the door. Then the door swung inwards, and Roseluck peeked out with surprise on her face.

“I thought you didn’t want to come over.” Roseluck smiled and opened the door wider. “I’m glad you came anyway. Come on in, I can get some more tea ready. The one I prepared earlier is all cold now.”

Roseluck’s house was neat and uncluttered. Pictures of family and friends lined the walls. Flower plants sat in pots on the corner tables throughout the living room. A record player sat opposite from the couch. A nearby shelf had records organized by genre. The atmosphere was calm and relaxed. Even Berry Punch felt herself settle down just a tiny bit as she examined the pictures on the walls. Roseluck left Berry Punch alone while she prepared the tea.

Berry Punch eyed the records. She didn’t recognize all of the bands, but some of them she could. Genre wise they stuck around indie and pop. She then looked over the pictures on the walls.

As she glanced over them she found one she didn’t recognize. A pink, yellow maned mare with a small smile on her face. I’ve never seen her around town. She hesitated as she moved to grab the picture. This isn’t my house. Some part of her wanted to know who this mare was. Roseluck didn’t seem like the type to put random pictures in her house. Her curiosity won out as she reached up and took the picture off the wall to look for a name. A piece of paper slipped out from the frame and fell to the floor. Putting the picture on the table Berry Punch picked up the paper.

I’m sorry Roseluck. I can’t stay here anymore.

The paper was stained with tears, and the words faded with age. A pit formed in her stomach. Berry Punch immediately regretted reading the note and tried her best to carefully tuck it back into the frame before she hung the picture back up.

Couldn’t keep my hooves off her things for one minute while she was gone. Berry Punch started to nervously pace. I have to tell her. Or maybe not? It’d be easier not to. That’s selfish. I’ve already messed up by being late today, now I’m being nosy. What do I even say? Her thoughts raced, indecisive. She didn’t notice when Roseluck returned to the room.

“Hey, are you okay?” Roseluck set down two filled cups of tea.

Berry punch froze. Just tell her.

“I… I’m just sorry I was late today.” Dammit.

“It’s okay, I know your sleep schedule is different.”

That’s a generous interpretation.

“Thank you for inviting me over, I don’t get that much.” Or at all. The thought pricked at her paranoia. If you’re being genuine.

“We’re friends, I like to think that’s normal.” Roseluck smiled. “This is a special blend.” She motioned to Berry Punch’s cup. Berry Punch waited for Roseluck to take a sip of her own, before she grabbed her own cup.

Berry Punch took a small sip and was met with something sweet and spicy with an unfamiliar aftertaste. At first Berry Punch didn’t know if she liked it, but with each follow up sip the taste grew on her. Not the same as alcohol. She felt slightly uplifted and energized.

“Where did you get this?” Berry Punch asked.

“Nowhere, I made it.” Roseluck beamed before she sheepishly rubbed the back of her head. “I learned the recipe from Zecora. We talk about rare flowers sometimes, and I also buy some exotic ones from her when I can. This brew has Roaming Mound Flower extract in it.” Roseluck’s eyes lit up as she talked. “It’s an energizer like coffee, but without the downsides. Zecora cultivates a few at her home, and I buy some extract from her when I can. It’s hard to catch them since they move around a lot, so I can’t make the tea as often as I’d like. So I save it for friends and family. Do you like it?”

“I do. A lot.” She stared down at her empty cup. Do I tell her now? Her discomfort grew every minute she kept it inside. Before she could work up the courage to talk, Roseluck spoke.

“You know, Minuette told me you paint.”

“What?” Berry Punch’s thought process derailed. I guess they are good friends. Parts of her chastised her nativity. Why’d you tell Minuette that? Now Roseluck knows too. Who else knows by now? Her ear twitched.

“She said you paint.”

Berry Punch idly traced the rim of her teacup. This is not the topic I was expecting. At least it’s a distraction from what I wanted to say.

“I do.” Used to. Not much point in doing it anymore. She looked to the floor. “How do you feel about that?”

“Feel?” Roseluck’s confused voice dragged her gaze up from the floor. “I think its interesting. I don’t really have any feelings on the matter.” Guess I slipped back into some old habits. She always made me ask Her that. She tried to keep the discomfort from showing on her face.

“Not a lot of other ponies do. Or if they do it’s because they…” want something from me. “They aren’t being genuine.”

“Oh.” Roseluck set her cup down. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, but I’m being myself if that makes sense. You don’t have to trust me right away.” Her smile faltered. “I can tell you don’t, but I hope one day I can earn it.”

It was hard for her to read Roseluck’s expression. Berry Punch’s mind twisted normal smiles into guile, and laughter into mockery. So far you’ve been nice. Kind even. Isn’t it how that starts? Reel you in with kindness then trap you in an emotional cage. Despite her doubt she decided to take another mental step towards trust.

She hadn’t had anypony as a friend for three years. Outside the context of her job she didn’t talk to anypony. As much as she hated to admit it she was starved for any kind of social contact. Her mind wanted to reach out, but at her own pace.

“I’m sorry, it’s just how I am.”

“You don’t have to apologize for being yourself.” Roseluck tilted her head in uncertainty. “What do you paint?”

“Watercolor paintings. Mostly of environments and the ponies in them.” My last painting wasn’t either of those. Then again mental breakdowns aren’t a great time to paint. “I tried to capture feelings through them.” Nothing statement. Maybe I’ll tell her more later.

Roseluck seemed to catch the terseness of the response and switched subjects.

“It’s a little stuffy in here, don’t you think? It’s nicer out in the backyard, and I can show you some flowers.”

Berry Punch agreed and the two exited the house.

The backyard garden put the front one to shame. Bushes lined the edges of the lawn, they served as a border. Flowers grew on either side of the back steps, and extended out into winding flower beds to the rest of the lawn. Curvy stone paths winded around them.

A variety of flowers with strange shapes and colors sprouted up from the ground. Red, pink, blue, purple, gray, and black colored flowers. Most had mixed colors.

Roseluck showed her around.

“These are Fire Daisies, they’re scattered around here, but they’re inactive right now. They melt snow in the colder months before it lands.” Roseluck gestured to the flowers lining the stone paths. “Lamp Light flowers, they glow the same color as their petals at night. It helps when I need to tend to things when the sun sets earlier. Oh, and those are…”

Berry Punch tried her best to keep up with Roseluck’s passion, but the thought of note nagged her. There was no longer any topic that could keep her thought process from being stopped.

On one hoof her garden was beautiful. Clearly a lot of effort and time had been put into it. On the other she couldn’t enjoy just being around her with the constant distraction in her head. What if she takes the note out regularly? And what if I put it back wrong? She’ll notice, and then the situation will be worse! It was harder to control her breathing as her thoughts started to race at the likely bad outcome. But it all came to a stop when Roseluck asked a direct question and snapped her out of it.

“Are you okay? Your breathing doesn’t seem right.”

“I’m sorry,” Berry Punch blurted out.

“...For what?” Roseluck asked, confused.

“I saw a picture I didn’t recognize on your wall, well, I mean the pony. I didn’t recognize the pony,” Berry Punch stuttered. Come on keep it together! “When I took it off the wall to look for a name a note fell out. I read it. I shouldn’t of and I’m sorry.” Berry Punch looked down at the ground. “Sorry.”

She had let her nerves get the better of her. No control. Now I sound like a stuttering idiot.

Roseluck didn’t respond. Leaves swayed in the summer breeze. The longer the silence went on the worse Berry Punch felt, and the more she felt she should leave. Before Berry Punch could come to any other conclusions, Roseluck spoke up, her voice held a sad wistful tone.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”

Berry Punch felt uneasy at the response. It was unexpected. Where was the anger? Where was the accusations? Is she acting? Berry Punch didn’t know, but Roseluck sounded sincere. Another part of her felt relief, but she tried not to lean into it in case it was false.

Roseluck stared at a far point in the garden. A lone white lily flower sat in it’s own flower bed.

The two mares sat in the quiet garden for a moment. Flowers swayed in their beds around them, and tree branches reached down in a comforting gesture. Sunlight shined through the leaves and cast spots of light on the ground.

“Lily was my sister.” Roseluck sighed. “She... left one day, leaving only that note behind. This was her part of the garden.” Roseluck gestured to the lone flower. “It's silly, but I keep it the same in case she ever comes back. Even if I know she won’t.” Roseluck had a pained expression on her face. “She… struggled with a lot, and it was too much for her, so she... left.” A wistful smile crept onto Roseluck’s face.

“She always had a knack for making ponies smile,” Roseluck said. “Even on her bad days. She was able to handle the grumpy and picky customers with ease. It was hard for her to smile genuinely, but she tried her best. Now it’s just me, and Mom and Dad. Daisy found her calling somewhere else.” Roseluck shook her head. “Sorry for unloading that onto you. I trust you, and didn’t want you worrying about the note you found.” Roseluck smiled. “How about your family? Have you talked to them recently?”

Berry Punch didn’t know what to say, her expectations for how the conversation was going to go crumbled to ash. Roseluck had opened up to her. She shared a personal memory, and didn’t seem too bothered by it.

Berry Punch felt like she had to return the favor. Make the exchange of information equal. She trusted me enough to tell me something personal. I can do the same, right? Do I trust her enough? Berry Punch bit her lip as she made her decision. Please don’t use this against me.”

“Not for four years or so.” Genuine surprise crossed Roseluck’s face.

“Is this a bad topic for you?” Roseluck asked.

“Yes and no. It’s my fault, really.” Berry Punch weighed on how much detail to share. “I didn’t have the best time in college. I met…” Berry Punch stopped herself. Even after all this time, she didn’t want to say Her name out loud. It felt wrong to say, and brought back a host of unpleasant memories. “It wasn’t a great time in my life. I just stopped sending letters after my experience. Didn’t feel like I was worth the trouble.”

Roseluck put a hoof on her withers. Berry Punch almost leaned away at the contact, but allowed the comforting gesture to stay. Roseluck seemed to consider her words carefully.

“You know, you could visit them?” Roseluck’s uncertain tone unintentionally turned the statement into a question.

Berry Punch looked over Roseluck for an ounce of pity, but only found a genuine look in her green eyes. Writing a letter is hard enough, but seeing them? Berry Punch could already imagine the looks of disappointment on their faces. ‘Sorry, Mom and Dad I ignored you for four years because I couldn’t deal with my own issues like a grown mare, but I’m back now!’ Berry Punch internally groaned at the thought. You’re staring at Roseluck. That particular thought knocked Berry Punch back to her senses.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“Just go at your own pace. If you need any support I can go along with you whenever or if you decide to go, if that makes it easier for you.”

Berry Punch didn’t respond. She didn’t know how to.

Author's Note

Thanks for reading! Corrections and critiques are welcome.