Midnight

This morning, something in the air of our home felt... different. It's not bad – on the contrary, it felt like an unseen pressure had been lifted away. But the discussion last night was nowhere near that productive. It solved some lingering tensions, but also added some into the void left behind.

Moreover, I was given a jolt to the system upon waking up. Opening my eyes to find Midnight not curled up with me was surprising enough; her complete absence, combined with the outrageous idea last night of seeking out this mystery 'Johnson' fellow...

Could I be blamed for my initial panic?

Fortunately, that state of fear didn't last long – the quiet of our living quarters meant that I could hear the low voices of two mares murmuring about something out in the living room. As soon as I started moving, those hushed voices were replaced by a desperate shush from who certainly had to have been Midnight, as a delighted giggle followed right after.

I wanted to ask what that was all about once the day started with me walking out of the bedroom to greet them – but I didn't try. I already knew I wouldn't get anywhere with that interrogation, as fun and as silly as it might have been.

Yet I didn't need to know the details of that to notice the change between the two. Of course, they already were friends – that's how this whole sleepover became a thing. But the morning has been... more chatty. More open. I can't quite put my finger on it in specific terms. I feel like I missed something else that happened last night.

How I go about discovering that... well, I'm not sure. Much like the discussion the two were having this morning, I don't expect being forward with my questions to do any good with Midnight. Sensitive subjects or private details are embarrassing to her.

So, here the three of us are, working in the shop this morning. There are plenty of orders to be sorted and boxed, which is the most mundane task of this new junkyard business model. Both Midnight and I dislike the process, but more often than not, we still go ahead and pack away the day's haul that same evening.

On occasion, we will procrastinate and do a bigger run the next day. Then there's this morning, where we have a pile of parts that have accrued for a few days now, the sight of which has led to regrets. But happily, with three of us here to work on sorting and boxing, the mountain is feeling more akin to a molehill. While Starla fetches boxes and packing material, I holler out the part orders for Midnight to scavenge from the pile. It leaves me to finish up sealing each box and slapping on the shipping label.

So far, it's a system working rather well, with only... a few hiccups. "Not sure what pile that would be in, but the next parts we need are a turn signal stalk and a steering wheel for a '65 Bonnie, Mid," I call out.

A few feet away, Midnight sighs as she shakes her head. "Yeah, I don't even remember that order – that's gonna be a scavenger hunt locating them," she replies. "Let's not ever wait this long to pack orders again."

"Noted – or at least until the next time one of us insists on pushing the task off to the next day because he or she is tired."

"Yeah – which is usually a 'he.' Meaning you," she retorts, adding a snort of indignation at the end.

"Ah, but it's not always me, so I'm not wrong here."

While Midnight mutters under her breath as she shovels through a parts pile, Starla trots over with the next box ready to be passed down the line. "Here you go – this is a smaller one," she says once the flap clutched between her teeth is released.

"Thanks, Star. I think I already know which order to use this box for," I say while glancing through the packing slips lining the counter. The lapse in activity gives me an opening to start my light questioning. "Really... ah, we cleared the air between the three of us last night, huh? Everything feels so much more relaxed."

Starla is my best bet at getting further information regarding last night's events that may have occurred later on. With Midnight preoccupied with her search, she won't be likely to speak up and shush Starla, either.

"Yeah, I think you're right on that one." The short answer and the brief nod from Starla were unexpected responses. It only heightens my suspicions – particularly as Starla returns to her box fetching job without hesitation.

"Did you sleep okay last night? I know the couch isn't the greatest thing in the world."

Star pulls attention off of the stacks of cardboard she's begun to shuffle through to glance at me once again. Those violet eyes have narrowed – subtle, but noticeable. "Is this a question of general concern, or is there something more behind it?"

"Can we go with 'both' as an answer?"

Starla utters a short muffled chuckle at my suggestion. "I'm going to hazard a guess you overheard us talking early this morning?"

"Yeah – but I didn't hear anything that I could make out," I admit with a shrug. "Midnight certainly sounded eager for you to stop once I got out of bed, though."

"Yeah, that was just some girl talk. Nothing for you to worry about," she replies, calm but firm in that notation.

"Fair enough. I guess I bring it up because the two of you seem more... I don't know, open and chummy with each other? Or at least earlier this morning you were during breakfast and getting ready for the day. Obviously, now that we're working—"

"Strange, you don't seem to be working much right now."

Needless to say, I jump as Midnight's voice interrupts me from behind. Spinning around on my heels, I find her standing there, trying to appear unamused and frustrated – but there's no hiding that pleased smirk that threatens to overwhelm her muzzle.

"Do – should I look for the parts?" I offer, assuming the lack of organization is beginning to truly frustrate her.

"Here's the wheel," she drones back, hovering the dust-tinged red steering wheel out from behind her to plop onto the countertop beside me. "The turn signal stalk is going to be a legitimate needle-in-a-haystack sort of search. So yeah, I'd like some help with that one."

"Of course – Starla, could you help in the search, too?" I ask, turning to her.

Starla prances in place at the opportunity and nods her head. "Absolutely – just explain to me what I should be looking for, and I'll do my best."

Hm... how to explain something that looks – well, it's pretty generic and featureless. It would be nice if I had an example to pick up and show her, but it's still not going to be easy to find.

"So, we're looking for a chrome piece, a small diameter tubular piece of metal probably about six, seven inches long," I explain, gesturing each measurement with my hands. "One end is probably flared off into a knob, the other end is bent and flattened, and has a hole for mounting."

"Alright, I think I have a decent idea," she replies, focusing on the description as her muzzle contorts in concentration. "Are there any markings on it at all?"

"No, I don't think so. It doesn't help I forgot how this one specifically looked – I'm just describing a generic stalk," I concede, leading her along toward the parts piles.

"I'm certain that was the only turn signal lever we pulled this week – or in quite a while," Midnight adds as her electromagnetism begins to shuffle parts and pieces around. "There shouldn't be any issues with mix-up – it's just a matter of finding the damn thing."

I squat down beside Midnight and get to work picking through the finer items Midnight has yet to sift through in this collection. All the while, Starla stands next to me, honing her eyesight onto the details of everything jostled about that Midnight or I don't specifically handle.

"So, back to what you were asking a moment ago... you think Midnight and I are more – er, 'chummy'? I'm not sure what that means," Starla admits.

"Eh – I just don't really know how to convey it. I guess what I mean to say is it seems like you two, when you were talking this morning – there was a wall that had come down. You just seemed closer, in a way. More open."

"What did you hear this morning?" Midnight interjects with a wary, cautious voice. As I turn to look at her, her eyes are as wide as saucers.

"I really didn't hear anything, if you mean the discussion I apparently interrupted just by waking up," I suggest to her. "That must have been quite the juicy bit of conversation if I got you that wound up."

"Put a cork in it."

"Oh, come on Midnight," Starla scoffs, strutting around me and to the other side of Midnight to give her a playful hip check. "I think he might have a good point. It does sort of feel like we're connected on another level since late last night."

"Late last night? Was there another conversation that I missed?"

"Ugh, I'm not getting out of this without some information, am I?" Midnight huffs in exaggerated frustration. "Long story short, I went out for some fresh air last night and Starla was worried and followed me out to check up on me. We talked and sorted some minor things out between us, that's all."

That's... a long story far too short to be satisfying. And the way Starla's grin has started to shift into something more mischievous – I think she feels the same way. Even though she was in on that conversation.

"Also interesting to note – I'm now her big sister," Starla sings with delight.

My eyes instantly flick back to Midnight, expecting a furious attempt to cover or embellish Starla's remark into something more innocuous. But other than her eyes widening just a bit more out of pure surprise, she makes no effort to protest. Instead, a few moments later, she offers a firm nod, focusing her eyes on me. "We just sorta came to the realization neither of us has family. It's a sobering and lonely kind of thought. So from there – yeah, it might sound a bit weird but—"

"Midnight, I'm not going to make fun of you," I assure her, almost a bit hurt that she's feeling a need to explain this in detail. "Really, that sounds great."

"Yeah, it is – but I guess there's your mystery solved. Not much to it," she adds, shaking her head and turning her attention back to the heap of parts. "Now, turn signal stalk for a '65 Bonneville."

"Right, good point. Thanks for sharing though," I reply, saluting her before resuming the dig.

"How long did you two let this collection sit and grow?" Starla inquires, sharing a wary glance with both Midnight and me in equal measure.

"Less than a week," is Midnight's immediate, terse response.

"...but we're getting rather close to that amount of days," I reluctantly add.

Starla tsks her disapproval, though her eyes wander back to the mess on the floor rather than linger on anyone.

" That was directed at you, Mid," I state, pointing a finger at her in accusation.

"Oh, I'm sorry – whose name is on the building again?"

"I could add your name."

"...really?" Midnight's eyes widen and sparkle with the idea.

I find myself blindsided by the wondrous, bated breath tone that Midnight responds with toward my stupid comment. "I... well, I probably could. I don't really see why not," I manage to spit out.

"I don't mean to be negative, but would that really be a good idea?" Starla comments, flattening her ears against her head as regret apparently stings her. "It would be neat, but it would be... putting her out there. Shining the limelight on her, possibly attracting attention from the wrong kind of people."

At once, the magic fades away from Midnight's eyes, replaced with the sobering reality of her specific situation. "Yeah, Starla has a point there. Interesting idea, but not a good one to implement," she rattles off. "John was answering sarcasm with sarcasm anyway."

She's right – up until I saw she was actually interested. Starla hit the nail on the head though – Midnight's name may not be familiar to the people that used to keep her as a science experiment, but people of all sorts will ask questions about the name change, and how everything came to be...

"Sorry, you have no idea how expensive signage is," I quip, trying to ease Midnight down as best I can. "There's a reason the sign out front is so faded – that was painted up years ago. It was just a joke on my part."

"I knew it was," Midnight dismisses me. "But no worries – look what I found in the meantime."

A bright chrome lever levitates up off of the floor from just in front of Midnight. As if I need a closeup to understand the prize on display, the turn signal stalk floats to within mere inches of my face, leaving me with nothing but my distorted reflection in the silvery finish.

"Oh dear, I must have suddenly gone blind," I remark, sticking my arms and hands out and pretending to feel around. "What is it? What did you find?"

"Hey, you found it sis!"

Starla's exclamation causes Midnight to almost turn purple from how hard she blushes. Yet despite the embarrassment, there's no denying that genuine ear-to-ear grin that accompanies it.