The Spicy Saffron Sepsis

Ponyville's most well-known farmer, Charred Saffron, knew today more than any other weekday. He hopped out of bed and glanced out the window. The field looked like a vibrant amethyst color, at least, from a distance. Although he didn't mind that his bed stayed unmade, it was harvesting day.

"Woo! Today is the day, Saffron! Harvesting day!" He yelped to himself, tapping his hooves furiously on the floor. He sounded like a childish tap dancer. Unlike any other pony in Equestria, he was the only adult still living with his parents. Saffron Masala opens the door.

"Saff, it's 5 in the morning. . ." She mumbles, walking up to him and patting his shoulder. "Son, you really need to move out soon." Saffron Masala continues, looking into his eyes, serious and bold, with a slight tang of spice in the tone of her voice.

"I know, I know. But if I harvest enough this season in time to open the family restaurant, I could earn enough to rent a cottage. Trust me, Mom, I want to move out too," He huffs, sighing in disappointment at himself.

"I'm sorry."