Sunday Night ; The Park (I)

        Low rumbling threatens to break the air.

 

 

        Whether it's a storm approaching or the pounding vibrations coming from underneath the ground, you can't tell. You don't know and you don't care, either; no one does. That's the beauty of right now. No one cares.

        It happens once every week. These few hours where time becomes almost graspable in an unreal amalgamation where evening, night and early morning all exist at once. They all blur together in a mixture of deep purple, midnight blue and black, mirroring each other's image, making it a madman's attempt to discern them from one another. There aren't many who see this for what it truly is, but to them, it's all there is, it's all that matters anymore. It encompasses their world and their lives. It engulfs every aspect of them, sending them afloat elsewhere: that thick, viscous stream of time. Those long drawn-out transitions where lazy Sundays reluctantly come to an end, slowly seeping over into a Monday that reanimates it all. It only lasts a few hours, but they live them like they're worth entire lifetimes. Because they know they can't get away. They can't get away from the city.

 

        You just can't.

 

        And so, you sit here and you wait for it. Wait for another Monday to come peaking from behind the horizon as the sun rises. Wait for another page from those nine-to-five papershovers upstairs to file away. Another cup of coffee, no sugar. Another freshly pressed white shirt. What's that, sir? Those files absolutely have to be sent off by the end of the day no matter what? Of course, sir. No lunch break, sir. What additional costs? Brake pads almost worn? Six hundred for a new set? Well, of course, wouldn't want to be a danger on the road. Credit card, please. Another microwave dinner that turns a crispy black at the sides and remains frozen in the center. No, thank you, I'm perfectly fine with my current cable-provider. No, no, I'm not interested. No, thank you anyways. Oh, out of hot water again, will you just look at that.

 

        But not quite yet. First, you'd come here for another few hours.

 

        When you'd ask or just even mention it, nobody knew what you're talking about. But they'd all know, even if they haven't been here. That's just the thing: you're not special and you're not alone. There's seven billion others like you and you're not the first to live your life like this. They're not different.

 

        You'll see anyone here.

 

        That one guy from work who always wears those light-blue button down shirts that just don't fit him how they're supposed to. The one with the little scar on his chin that he got in one of his games. He's still got some remains of his build from his highschool rugby days. Just a stereotypical jock who married the girl that went to prom with him way too soon and had to grab the first job he could. Couple years pass by and before he knew what hit him, he got stuck, working some underpaying job to support a family of five he never wanted in the first place. He might have gone pro if he didn't have those unwanted responsibilities. Threw away his life in a single night of drunken stupidity, like kids that age have all the time.

 

        Yeah, that one.

 

         You've passed each other by at the watercooler. His eyes held yours just a tad too long and you'd recognize him. The weekend before, where he stumbled out of the white room, his eyes unsteady, bloodshot and watery. His face tight and pale. And then that smile. That smile everyone here lived for. That smile you were waiting in line for too, just like him. All so you could be gone from this world and blasted straight into your own instead. Another night of stupidity, just like guys your age have once a week.

 

        That's why people come here.

 

        So they can get away from everything, themselves included. All that remains is the pounding, the breaking air and a vapid smile. You don't need anything more than that, not in those moments. There's no jobs, no bosses. You don't need to talk with two words and nod every time some higher-up thinks he's reinvented the wheel.

        You're just here. And you're happy. Just for a few hours, but that's enough. It keeps you going for another week. Six days of being dead.

 

        Then a few hours of life for all of its worth.

 

 

        It was a little bit of both, it seems. A drop of water just brushes the tip of your nose as it sails towards the ground. And as you begin to climb down the set of poorly-lit stairs, towards that mindless droning sound hiding from plain sight, a downpour begins. The city's streets weep as another flees underground, digging himself in to cope with what the world has turned into.

 

        Smoking here's cheap. A veil of grey hangs in between these people, obscuring themselves just enough so they can try to hold something akin to a conversation with a random stranger, just like them. You take a deep drag, bobbing your head to this mechanical noise, repeating itself at uneven intervals. Its beat reverberates through the building and those who dare stand inside it. Your chest tries to keep up with the vibrations, though finding itself falling short of that capability. It's not so much a sound— He nods at you. "Gin and tonic." —as it is a feeling.

 

        Honestly, you couldn't care less, as long as it warms you up. You can't run a marathon without a warm-up and this is just a sport like any other. And like all things, training and persistance are key.

 

        "On the tab?"

 

        You don't even know if he heard your order in the first place. But a drink's a drink, you'll take whatever you can lay your hands on tonight. A flick of your fingers and he's off to etch another finish line under your name. That's what these nights are for.

 

        Taking.

 

        Whatever it is that you want. Just take it. There are no consequences here. What happens behind these doors, stays behind them. So far, nothing's ever happened. Couple of fights, sure, but if that's what those people wanted to take, who are you to tell them no?

        They are few and far in between, anyways. Most people come here for the same reason as you. To let it all go. All that hard-earned money you had to nod your head so hard for, flushed away in a single night with just another nod of your head. Save for one bill. But you wouldn't do it any other way.

 

        The liquid stings as it rolls down your throat. You try to smother the burning sensation in another layer of smoke. With three quarters of your glass emptied in one go, and your cigarette almost at the end of its life, you let the place take you in. Come to think of it, you have no clue where the music is coming from in the first place. You're weaving your way through the crowd, passing by some familiar faces. As far as the smoke allows you to see in here, anyways.

        At the end of the room is another bar with six, worn-down brass stools in front of it. The leather's scuffed and dry, in a desperate need for some tender love and care. You don't even have to bother waving him over this time. The glass never got the chance to condense on the bar. The moment it touched the polished cherry wood was the moment it was on its way to its final resting place. "On your tab?" Another line to your name. One of so many by now.

        There's something that resembles a dance floor in front of the bar, habituated by but a few. Lighting up another, you let your eyes trail over those few, brave enough to try and find rhythm in the droning. Their bodies move in ways that are hard to even see, much less describe. There's no pattern in the beat and there's no pattern in them, either. Most of them are already smiling. It's a little early for you yet. Besides, you're not much of a dancer anyways.

        With another wave, your glass gets filled again. For now, you'd just watch. Watch their shapely bodies sway in ways you couldn't find elsewhere. Their hips wafting back and forth, left and right, the tight black fabric following just behind on a moment's notice. And already you began to feel it. Warmth, more than once. You were among like-minded people here.

 

        It's odd.

 

        You hear it a lot on the news 'The majority of the voters...' and things like '...but the majority of the victims...". The human mind has come to think in odd ways. As soon as that one word is spoken, they all tend to forget. 'The majority'. When there's a hundred people, that means fifty-one of them agree on something. Those other forty-nine? Well, don't mind them too much; they're just a minority, after all.

        It's been what now? Seven years? Seven years since they first came here. And there was panic. Oh boy, was there panic. Some claimed the world was going to end right then and there. You doubt it lasted more than a few months. Then it became a common sight to watch ponies walk down the streets.

        You don't know why they come here. If what you heard of their world is even remotely true, you'd love to go there some day. But that's politics, you guess. 'Unsafe radiation' and whatnot. Still, the other way around was no issue. Plenty of ponies came to Earth. It didn't take that long to see that they didn't have any ulterior motives. They answered the questions they were asked with a smile. And now, a couple years down the line, they're seen as these little, innocent creatures.

 

        Well, the majority of them, anyways.

 

        You'd simply overlooked her in the smoke. And her frame didn't really aid her much. But this pony, with her eyes closed, swinging her entire body to this deep trembling beat...

        No, she didn't really seem like your common pony. How she got in here in the first place was a mystery.

 

        "You know a picture's going to last you longer, right?" And just like that, your reveries took flight.

 

        "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

 

        Those pink eyes seemed to burn even more vivid at your response and not a second later, her pure white lips turned in a smile, knowing no rivals, unmatched in its beauty and its energy.

 

        "Hah, don't sweat it. I know I stick out from your usual crowd, okay?"

 

        With a flick of her long, thin neck, she sent her electric mane astray, clearing the sweat-coated hair from her face. "Hey, uh... Do you mind?"

 

        They're little things, these ponies. And they're big chairs. "No, no, of course not. Just let me help you..." They're light things, too. "There we are."

 

        There you are. Eye to eye and face to face with an alien.

 

        "Hey yo, barkeep!"

 

        And what an alien it was. But still, it didn't help her. If there's one thing you know about this bar, it's that they like their regulars.

 

        "Tony!" That caught his attention. Antonio absolute hated it when people called him that. But you couldn't care less about that right now. "Gin and tonic. Make that two."

 

        "Hey, you don't have to—"

 

        "Please," you shush the little pony, "one more isn't going to make a difference for me, okay? It'd be my pleasure."

 

        Her smile grew into something more of a grin. And somehow, it seemed to fit her better. She didn't strike you like other ponies, no. There was this way this mare had of carrying herself; you'd seen it before when she was dancing. This mare had the guts to say no.

 

        "Well, if you insist," she said, barely suppressing a laugh behind that grin.

 

        You don't know why she was smiling, but you felt like joining her regardless.

 

        "The tab, I presume?"

 

        A quick nod of yours, and he was on his way again.

 

        "So," you begin, raising your glass, "what are we drinking to?"

 

        The mare's horn shimmers a light-blue, coating her glass in a field of what they'd call 'magic'. Right after, the lights began to flicker and the nonsensical patterns of the music began to die out.

 

        "Hey! None of that in here!" you hear Tony yell from behind the bar as he storms his way over towards the two of you. "The electricity gets messed up with your..."

        With a shake of his head, he turns around again towards his paying customers. "One warning is all you're getting, then you're out, understood?"

 

        Quickly, the pony nods at him, putting her glass back down on the counter. "Okay, yeah, no problem. Sorry."

 

        Muttering something unheard to either of you, he tends back towards satiating the thirsty and the drunk.

 

        "You okay?" The mare seemed a bit distraught, if not scared from Tony's verbal lashing. With a little shake, you managed to get a hold of her attention again. "Hey, you o—"

 

        "Yeah, fine." She shook her head, resulting in her damp mane ending up in a sloppy side-parting. "Just..."

 

        "Tony can be a bit loud, huh?"

 

        "...Yeah."

 

        Rubbing the unicorn's haunches, you try to comfort her with a smile. "Don't let it get to you, alright?"

 

        Hesitantly at first, the mare nodded and with a look at her glass still standing on the bar, her drive seemed to set back in.

 

        "I believe we were making a toast."

 

        You hoist your glass up in the air again, only to realize moments later that your companion couldn't do the same. With a grin not-quite matching the playfulness of your current buddy, you hoist up both glasses, holding one towards the mare, the other to yourself.

 

        "To..."

 

        "Music!"

 

        Any reason to drink is a good one, you like to think. "To music."

 

        The two glasses tapped each other —which, in all likeliness, must have looked ridiculous to anyone watching you tap them both together, whilst holding them both— before you sloshed down your own, tilting the other one back a little as well.

        She didn't quite match your speed, but for a little thing like her, she did a pretty good job of keeping up with you. Her face grimaced at the bitter stinging and you couldn't help but laugh a little laugh through your own gritted teeth.

 

        "S-so," you groaned, lighting up a new cigarette to calm the burning of your throat, "music, huh?"

 

        Maybe it was the light, but it almost seemed as if there were tears forming in the brim of her eyes. Despite that, she smiled and nodded. But this wasn't like before; there was no playful arrogance hiding in her demeanor. Just the mention of music made her shine, and in her eyes, you saw it again: that drive, that energy. The guts to say no. There was something fascinating about this mare, something so... new.

 

        "That's my scene, alright. I'm a DJ where I come from."

 

        "And now you're looking to make it big here?"

 

        And then, you received an answer unlike any other before. Then, you got the first glimpse of what played in this pony's mind.

 

        She closed her eyes, still holding that same smile on her lips.

 

        "Close your eyes."

 

        Now, usually you wouldn't let a creature barely half your size tell you what to do, but for her, this once, you'd make an exception. You close your eyes and you wait. What you were waiting for, you had no idea. Neither did you have an idea of how much time had passed, but then you heard a sharp inhale; your reflexes took over and before you knew it, you had your eyes opened again.

 

        The mare still sat right where you'd left her, and yet, there was something different about her now. Softly swaying to and fro on her stool, she let the beat flow through her. With her eyes still closed, that same smile only growing wider with each passing moment, her movements grew more and more energetic. "You don't hear anything like this where I'm from." Whether she knew you had opened your eyes or not was yet another thing you didn't know. Truth be told, you knew for certain that you'd never see things her way. Not when it comes to music, too. "It's so... raw."

        You never knew what kind of music they played in here. Most of the time you were too far gone to care, either. Right now, a deep bass rumbled, low-tempo, high-volume. Intermissions came by in uneven sections, hard breaks from the otherwise smooth flow the music provided. With each sharp note, the mare responded. Sometimes, she squinted just a little more than she already did. Other times, the corner of her lips would flare, both up and down, though to you there was no difference to be heard. "Almost like it's unprocessed..." Her motions died out with the music, and right before another track got mixed in, she nodded to herself, content with whatever discovery she'd made.

        "Hey, you opened your eyes."

       

        An apologetic shrug was all you had to offer before waving for another refill.

 

        "I'm not looking to make it big here. My stuff isn't like this at all."

 

        Another two glasses get placed in front of you. By now, they don't bother asking anymore. It's all on the tab.

 

        "So... inspiration, then?"

 

        The mare stares down on her glass, but before you get the chance to offer it to her, she'd already taken the whole thing in her mouth. With another gracious flick of her long neck, she slams the thing back in its entirety in one big gulp. There are tears burning in her eyes right now, no doubt about that, but through her tears the mare smiles that lovely arrogant grin again. Gritting her teeth together, she lets loose a throaty chuckle. "Hah, I get by just fine without magic."

 

        "Just like in college..." And just like your partner had done before, you tilted the glass into your mouth, sloshing the entire thing down in less than a second.

 

        "Aaaah, Christ, that burns..."

 

        Slamming the empty glass back down on the bar, you already saw Tony making his way over to you for another refill.

 

        "Inspiration? Yeah, maybe a little. It's not all business, though."

 

        "Don't really see how a place like this makes for a fun vacation."

 

        "Well, no. That's because you're used to it," she said, looking around the room with pure fascination written all over her face. "To me, this is all new, you know. This is nothing like home."

 

        "Which one's better then?"

 

        The crystalline tingle you'd both grown used to by now hits the cherrywood again.

 

        "It's not about better or worse, not to me."

 

        She downed half of her glass again, though you doubt she had much of a choice with her way of drinking. You, on the other hand, slowed down a bit, content with a little sip for now.

 

        "It's just an experience, you know?"

 

        This place was certainly an experience. Your first time coming here...

 

        "Yeah, I hear you. Still, we don't really see many like you here. I think you're the first, actually."

 

        "Is that a good or a bad thing?"

 

        Once more, you offered the universal reply to every question asked. You shrugged your shoulders, letting another rivulet of the bitter liquid roll down your throat. "All the same to me."

 

        She kept her smile, though your answer made her cock her head. You think it was your answer, anyway. She shook her head, offering you a shrug back.

 

        "What does that mean?"

 

        "I'm fine with you guys coming here, really. I don't mind." Another sip leaves your glass empty. "God, we've spent years arguing on same-sex marriages. Then you guys come along and we get cross-species relationships... I mean, you really helped us push some change through, even if it wasn't your idea in the first place."

 

        "And that's fine with you?" she asks.

 

        "I ain't no judge, lady. That's not my job."

 

        Her brow fell, though her smile seemed to grow a bit. Whether confused or amused, you couldn't really say. And you don't think that she could really tell, either.

 

        "What is your job then?"

 

        "Whatever paperwork the guys upstairs shove down my neck."

 

        "That's not what I—"

 

        Another series of taps on the cherrywood.

 

        "Hey." Tony waved you over, a small distance away.

 

        With an absentminded wave of your hand, you got off your seat. "Be back in a sec, okay?"

 

 

        His gaze shot to the left, then to the right. Then he leaned a bit over the counter, bringing himself as close to you as he could with the bar standing in between.

        "Frederick said he had something new for you."

        You're not entirely sure what he might be hinting at, though if the blur of the past weekend is anything to go by, you might know what he's talking about. Your reply starts with a nod. "Alright, thanks."

        "You have fun tonight, alright?" Tony asks before making his way back to the other end of the bar.

        "Yeah, don't think that'll be a problem."

 

 

        "Sorry about that," you offer as you take your seat opposite the mare again.

 

        Looking back at the dance floor, she shrugs her withers. "No need to apologize to me."

 

        You, as well, joined her in taking in the moving forms of those on the dancefloor. The punch your drink packed in flavor came a bit later in terms of actual effect. As another track reached its climax, bass pounding the floorboards loose, you felt the pounding through your entire body. Your head began to swim in warmth, a comfortable pressure surrounding it. The dancefloor in front of you began to shift in place and then you knew.

 

        Time to smile.

 

        "Hey, listen, I've got to go."

 

        Grabbing your drink, you slide out of your chair, slamming the vile liquid down once again. The bitterness, the burning, it's all muted much more than before. You're ready for something more. From within your pocket, you retrieve another cigarette; though, as you try to lighten it, you note the mare staring at you with something you can't place. Curiosity being the most prevalent emotion on her features, but it's not...

        There's something else there, too.

 

        "...Something wrong?"

 

        Her motions are slow, deliberate. Hesitant, as well. It doesn't fit her much, this uncertain behavior.

 

        "Do you do it too?"

 

        And yet, you were right all along. She's not nearly as innocent as she looks. You'd long since lost count of how many times you shrugged.

 

        "Look, you know this scene, right? You know what happens here."

 

        Simply shaking her head, she stares back off towards the dance floor, towards the blissful smiles spread on their faces.

 

        "I've seen it, sure, but not... not like this."

 

        "I thought that's why you liked coming here. Differences and whatnot."

 

        Heaving a sigh, the unicorn's chest rose and fell. She bobbed her head in agreement. "Yeah, it is." She cocked her head, carrying a content, little smile on her face. "...They look so happy."

 

        "Oh, they are," you carry on. "Happy... Carefree... Whatever they want to be, they're it alright."

 

        "And you're going to?"

 

        A corner of your lips tugs upwards, raising even higher as you faintly recall Tony's message.

 

        "No," you say, quietly shaking your head. "I've got work in a few hours. Can't afford to stand here like that for God knows how long."

 

        The mare stares at you, those bright, burning orbs of pink piercing their way straight into your own. Your breath stocks in your throat. There's so much energy in those eyes. So much passion, but without direction.

        You envy her.

 

        "I'm going for quick and dirty tonight." You can't help but let out a chuckle at that. The alcohol might play its fair part in that too.

 

       

        "Can I..." She cocks her head — No, she shifts her entire body; it's like she can't quite decide on being hesitant or letting her own determinate nature shine through. Swallowing what doubt she might have, she lowers her head, letting her gaze linger on your chest. "I-It's an experience, right?"

 

        Finally getting your cigarette lit up, you take a deep drag, mulling over what to do with the situation in front of you.

        You send a long, thin cylinder of smoke down the room. You continue to exhale, dragging it out into a sigh.

 

        "You think this is something you're up for?"

 

        The mare's eyes quickly sought your own again before she nodded a few times. "I've got mon—"

 

        You silence her with a wave of your hand. "Money's money. There's always more where it came from." Taking your seat opposite of her again, you flick the ashes of your cigarette in your empty glass. "What I'm asking if whether you really want to do this or not."

 

        She closes her eyes, turning her head away to look at the dance floor again. Then, just like she'd done before, she nodded to herself.

 

        "Because if you're not, this is going to be an absolute nightmare, I can promise you that."

 

        "No, I... I'd really like to."

 

        With a sizzle, you douse the remainder of your cigarette in the damp glass. Once more, you slide out of your chair, helping her back on all fours as well.

 

        "If you're up for it."

 

 

        The door to the restrooms is old and beaten, worn-down so badly that it looks like it's not in use anymore. And just like books, you oughtn't judge doors by their cover. This wooden colossus, with its black paint chipping off everywhere, is in all likeliness the most used object in this entire bar. The brass handle is scratched and has lost its shine ages ago; yet, it's warm to the touch, seeing several dozen-odd handshakes on a night like this.

 

        The line is long, much longer than it usually is at a time like this. But as soon as he sees you, you're allowed to pass by the others, cutting all the way into the front. What can you say? This bar loves its regulars.

 

        His hand, clammy and cold, like you'd expect a businessman's hand to be, slams into your own and the lackluster light of the restroom's hall dances in his auburn eyes.

 

        "Hey, good to see you," he greeted you in that slick voice of his, the words rolling out of his mouth as if each and every one of them'd been lathered lusciously in oil. "Almost thought you were a no-show today."

 

        "Better late than never, right?" Casting a quick glance back over your shoulder, you caught sight of the unicorn still standing all the way at the back at the line, as well as some of the annoyed glances of those who had to give up their place in line for you.

        "Anyway, Tony said you had something new for me."

 

        His eyes snapped left and right skittishly, before he gave a series of short nods. "Yeah, about our little talk from last week..."

 

        Your brow raised, having more than a little trouble to recall the specifics of that conversation.

 

        "I think I found what you were looking for," he said, leaning in a bit closer to you. With the grace of a magician, he slipped a little bag, wrapped in dirty-brown paper, in your hand. Underneath, you heard the crackling of plastic as you shifted the thing in your hand.

 

        Pocketing the bag, you started searching for the content of your other pockets for that smooth rectangle of leather. "How much do I ow—"

 

        Placing his hand on your shoulder, he dragged you closer to him, bringing his head less than an inch away from yours, obscuring both his and your own motions from any onlookers.

        "First one's on the house, alright?" He fidgeted his arms, making it seem as if he'd pocketed something. "If you like it, we'll talk prices next time."

 

        "This stuff is clean, right?"

 

        And just like that, the light stopped dancing in his eyes, instead grinding down to a painful, accusatory stare.

        "You ever had any problem with my stuff before?"

 

        Managing to keep your cool —though only barely at that— you know that at times like this, it's best to play open card with Fred.

        "No, can't say that there's ever been a problem."

 

        "So, you'd say I'm a trustworthy person then?" he gritted through his teeth, sending tiny droplets of spittle against your upper lip.

 

        "Yeah. Just asking, man."

 

        The lights danced again and with a pat on your shoulder, Frederick took his distance from you again, grinning a ear-to-ear wide smile. "Good. There's no trouble then, right?"

 

        "No, we're good."

 

        Another series of short nods followed. "Yeah... we're good."

 

        Turning around, you begin to make your way back towards the end of the hall. Casting one more look over your shoulder, you see another person making his way over to him.

        "Hey Frederick."

 

        His face didn't portray not a single sign of emotion as he turned back to look at you. He never liked selling to new customers.

 

        "See you next week."

 

        In the low light of the restroom's hall, you saw a corner of his lips tug upwards for just the slightest amount of time. With a nod, he turned back towards the new guy.

        Passing the mare by, you gave a slight nod, motioning her to follow.

 

        "Come on, let's get out of here. These people want to do business."

 

 

        The music still drones on, unyielding to the ever-growing crowd in the room and the smoke that surrounds them. You manage to catch Tony's eyes as you make your way back to the front of the bar and the two of you raise your hand towards each other, silently parting for another week.

 

        "You got like, a coat or something?"

 

        Her brow raised a little, the surprise on her face much too apparent to even try to hide. You could see it in the way she walked. How her eyes didn't seem focused on anything really. The tightness of the muscles in her entire frame. Anxiety was eating her up on the inside. But it wasn't your job to worry for her.

 

        "Uh, no. Just my saddlebags. I left them up front with the big guy. He said he'd take care of it."

 

        "Big guy, huh..."

 

        Pushing the double doors towards the entrance hall open, you immediately felt a sudden drop in temperature. It's not unlikely that it's already well into the middle of the night. At this time of year, it wasn't the smartest idea to stay out at night. Though, as you let your hand slide over the crisping paper in your pocket, you weren't worried too much about staying warm.

 

        "Hey Scoots!"

 

        Ah, good old Scoots. More of a building than a man, really. Two hundred and sixty-one pounds of muscle, towering over you, much like you towered over the unicorn at your side. His cue-ball of a head glimmered brightly underneath the TL-lights in the entrance hall. The black jacket they made him wear nearly burst out of its seams, just large enough to fit him, though just not large enough to allow him much room to move. Still, if he had to move, you'd put your money on Scoots getting his way, rather than the jacket.

        A lopsided grin spread on his face at seeing you.

 

        "Well, will you look at that? If it ain't my favorite little party-goer. Come 'ere and gimme a hug."

 

        Before you knew what hit you, you found your feet dangling a fair bit above the floor as the air was pressed out of your lungs.

 

        "Goddamnit Scoots, put me down. You're embarrassing me in front of company, man."

 

        Only then did his beady blue eyes see the mare looking off at the side, trying not to burst out laughing at you being flung around like a rag doll.

        With both feet on the ground again and your lungs filled with precious oxygen once again, you looked up, meeting Scoot's gaze again.

 

        "Be a gentleman and get this lovely lady her purse, would you?"

 

        "It's the one with th—" she begun, only to see that he had already vanished into a door in the corner of the hall, far too easily overlooked as it just fell outside of the light's reach.

 

        Moments later, he came back out of the shadows. "The ones with the music notes, right?"

 

        "Y-Yeah, thanks. How did you..."

 

        His finger, almost twice as thick as yours, pointed at her flanks.

 

        "I mean, I didn't stare at you or anything but... it's kinda obvious."

 

        Casting a glance at her own backside, the mare shook her head, trying to fend off the alcohol's effects.

        "Right, of course..."

 

        "That's all you had with you, right?"

 

        She bobbed her head in acknowledgment.

 

        "Alright then, let's go."

 

        Stuffing a loose bill from your pockets in his hands, you made your way towards the entrance again.

        "See you next week, Scoots."

 

        If he offered you a reply, it went by unheard to you as you let the mare slip past you, up the stairs, towards the sleeping city.

 

 

        A city that was eerily quiet. It was to be expected at a time like this, but still...

Only the soft pitter-patter of raindrops falling down on the grey asphalt of the streets could be heard. Everything had that typical smell things just had right after it'd stopped raining. Even in a city like this, somehow, there seemed to linger a fragrance in the air that could only remind you of a forest, refreshed, if not restored by the soothing rain that had struck just moments before.

 

        Taking a deep breath of cold night air, you stuff your hands in your pockets, letting your thumb idly trace the package within. Though you had yet to unpack it, a small smile already began to crawl onto the edges of your features.

 

        "Hey, where are you going?"

 

        The mare's hooves send small splashes of murky rainwater, intermingled with the city's dirt, against the hem of your pants. The rapidly growing sensation of damp fabric clinging to your leg caused shivers of discomfort to roll down your back, making you wonder how they got by without any clothes at all.

 

        "I don't know, really. Just someplace quiet, I guess..."

 

        "Do you live far from here?"

 

        You halted your pace, slowing down so you could meet the mare's face in the orange glow of the overhanging streetlights.

        "Not at my home."

 

        Your answer might have been more offensive than it should have been, but she kept her smile regardless as you continued to walk.

 

        "Someplace quiet then."

 

        A stray drop of water splashes against your face. The cold sensation is quite welcome as the alcohol's effects were growing even stronger than they had been before. You were beginning to have to put effort into keeping your trajectory a straight line.

        Your heart began to pound louder and louder in your chest and it grew harder with each passing moment to keep your eyes open for longer than a few seconds.

        You had no idea how long you'd been walking, though, in your current state, you couldn't have gone far. As you took a moment to stop and reorient yourself, you found exactly what you were looking for.

        Your forest.

 

        "There. Come on. There's fine."

 

        As you passed by the rusty gates, a few flakes of green paint still attached to it, refusing to give up on the purpose they'd been given over a decade ago, you hear her call out to you from behind.

 

        "Hey!"

 

        Slowly turning around, the gravel crunched underneath your shoes. She still stood there, right in front of the entrance of the park, staring at some warning sign hanging by a twisted copper wire.

 

        "What?"

 

        "Don't you have to put me on a leash?"

 

        Maybe it was the alcohol —it likely was the alcohol— or maybe it was just the absurdity of this entire situation: sneaking into an abandoned park on a Sunday night with a talking pony to go break the law, but you couldn't stop yourself from bursting out in laughter as the unicorn trotted over to you.

 

        "Alright, yeah. I'll make sure to bring one next time..." you said as she joined you by your side.

 

        "Next time, huh?"

 

 

        The park's bench was nearing the end of its life, its once sturdy wood now coated in a thin layer of moss, thanks to the shadows the large tree behind it provided. It creaked underneath the combined weight of you and the mare, though it managed to stay upright for now. The moss turned out to be quite a soft cushion actually.

 

        Taking the package out of your pocket, you hold it in the scarce moonlight falling in between the foliage of the tree. Carefully, you begin unpacking it, stripping layer after layer of the dirt-brown paper off. In the end, you're left with a small plastic bag, roughly the size of a golf ball.

 

        "What... What is it?" she asked quietly as she took off her saddlebags, haphazardly letting them slide down her back.

 

        You shifted the bag in between your fingers, enjoying the crisp sound of the little particles shifting over one another inside. And you felt a smile growing.

 

        "It's snow."

 

        From within your other pocket, you quickly retrieve the key to your house. With it, you scoop just the tiniest amount out of the top of the bag, holding it in the thin ray of moonlight right ahead of you, admiring the white flakes from as many angles as you can.

 

        "So, what does it do?"

 

        Looks like this sort of behavior is a universal constant. You still remember your first time in the bar. All the questions you asked. How anxious you were.

        And you remember how not-anxious you were afterwards.

 

        "Hard to explain really... I don't use this much."

 

        "I thought you wanted quick and dirty?" she said, half her face obscured by the shadows, the other half smiling that wonderfully arrogant grin for just a second until the nerves took over again.

 

        "Tonight, yeah." You licked your lips, still keeping your gaze locked on the tiny heap of dust on the tip of your key.

 

        "Do you do it a lot?"

 

        Her question seemed a lot more confident than she'd sounded before. Maybe she wanted to hold off on trying it for now. Or maybe she'd just drop out altogether.

        Not like you'd blame her. She'd already proven that she stood out from how their kind usually was seen. If this was the line she wasn't ready to cross, you wouldn't hold it against her. Especially not if it meant more for you.

 

        "Once."

 

        You let the little pile fall back into the bag before looking at her. Her head was tilted, now showing tree-quarters of her face in the pale moonlight. Her long, electric-blue hair softly danced in a wind you couldn't feel otherwise.

 

        "Once?" she asked.

 

        "Once a week," you said. "Every week."

 

        There was surprise on her face. And an undertone —not much, just barely notable even— of what you believe to be disgust. Though that, too, you wouldn't hold against her. You don't look like the type. Most don't.

        Something about keeping up appearances.

 

        "Why? I mean..." She shook her head, blinking her eyes at such a speed that made you wonder how she didn't seem effected by the drinks nearly as much as you. "I get that you'd want try it, but every week?"

 

        You took a deep, slow breath, letting the night's cool air slip into your lungs. Your tongue brushed along the edge of your upper lip as you watch her sit in front of you, her brow dropped in confusion, awaiting her answer.

        "You wouldn't..." Once again, you licked your lips and as you swallowed you noticed how coarse your throat felt.

        "It's like you said, our worlds are different. Not really better or worse, just different." Heaving a sigh, you let your gaze trail towards the gravel, hoping that the words you were looking for might be hiding on the ground.

        "When Tony yelled at you in the bar," you begin, holding one hand out towards her. She nodded. "You were... upset, right?"

 

        She nodded again. "Yeah, I didn't expect that."

 

        You rubbed your thumb across your fingertips, one of those stupid little habits you got when you got nervous or excited.

        Bobbing your head up and down in agreement, you said, "Well, that's the thing, I guess."

 

        She looked at you like you were a madman. Maybe you weren't so good with appearances as you'd thought.

 

        "We're used to that, you know?" You shook your head, staring off into the distance. "People yell all the time. You know why?"

 

        Those pink eyes stared at you, a certain hint of admiration showed on her face as she shook her head.

 

        "It works." You start searching for another cigarette to ease the burning in your throat. "If you yell, you get stuff done. If you ask nicely..."

 

        "I don't see how that translates in..." She gave a nod at the package lying on the bench. "Well, into that."

 

        "It's not just the yelling." Heaving a deep drag, the flame of your lighter got drawn to the tip, coating it in a bright orange. "It's everything. That's how we do everything."

        Flicking the ashes in the nightsky, you begin staring at the entrance gate of the park again. "It just takes so much out of you... Every day people yell at you all day long, asking you to take on extra work, trimming the edges of deadlines, asking you to do overtime..."

        Absentmindedly, you stare at the brand, printed right above the filter. Maybe you should start rolling your own cigarettes. That'd save you a fair bit of money, you think.

        "And you have to say yes or you're out. You just have to keep up with the system." The ache in your throat is already subsiding.

        "Six days of the week, I'll do whatever the boss-man upstairs is telling me, no problem."

 

        "But Sunday nights are yours, I take it?"

 

        "Everything gets so dull after a while. You wake up in the same bed every morning, go to the same job every day, listen to the same crap every time. And after a while, the yelling doesn't really work anymore. You just do it out of routine."

 

        Cocking your head, you let the memories play out in your mind again.

 

        "The guys at work, they... knew," you began. "They just saw it, just like it had happened to them. They told me they had a way to 'fix' it."

        You nodded, to no one in particular, mostly at yourself. "They took me to Antonio's bar. At first, I thought they'd just have a few beers with me, talk some crap about our jobs and that'd be the end of it."

 

        "Was that...?"

       

        You nodded again. "Yeah. My first time." A smirk spreads on your face as your chest lifts just a little from a silent guffaw. "I can barely even remember what happened that night. Just... I remember that feeling. How focused everything seemed. It was all 'real' again in that moment. And I remember smiling."

 

        "And that was... snow?"

 

        Your brow lifted and you shook your head. "I have absolutely no idea what they gave me that night." Shrugging your shoulders, you continued, "Never bothered to ask, either."

 

        "Why not? Don't you want to do it again?"

       

        "Nah. There's nothing that beats your first time. You're better off not knowing what it was."

 

        She cocked her head just a little. Maybe she was getting tired.

 

        "Keeps the memory untainted."

 

        Crushing the filter underneath your shoe, burying it in the gravel, you nod. "If I knew what it was, I'd do it again. I'd try to get that exact same feeling again."

        You shook your head. "But there's nothing like it. It wouldn't be the same. It'd be close, yeah, but just not close enough."

        Your eyes found hers, holding them as you continued, "That's when you start using more and more, hoping to get some sort of 'perfect' rush again. But it doesn't exist. Not like you imagine it to be."

 

        You broke your gaze, instead looking at the crushed filter on the ground again.

 

        "So I do this on Sundays. No one to answer to but me. It might not be pretty and it might not be much, but it keeps me going."

 

        "So, all of this is just to keep your life from getting boring?"

 

        Letting your tongue roll around in your mouth, you savor the last tastes of your smoke. "Apparently."

 

        "Have you ever thought of just leaving?" she asked, scooting a bit closer to you in the process. "Packing your things and going someplace new?"

 

        A smirk spread on your face before you couldn't stop yourself from laughing at her. "Running away?" As soon as you spoke the words, an itching crawled down your throat, making you cough a few times before regaining your breath.

 

        "You guys are so naive." She stared at you, anger growing readily in her look. "Don't get me wrong, that's what I like about you. You've all got this idealistic vision of a perfect world where all is well. Because yours isn't too far off the mark."

        Patting the bag on the bench, you leaned in closer towards her. "Guess what? Ours is."

 

        "What do you mean? Equestria has its problems too."

 

        "Really? Is that why you all go back to your portals after what? A week of Earth? Two weeks?" Cocking your head, you shrugged. "Okay, sure, there's a few dozen that got a relationship here. But I'm willing to put money on it, that as soon as humans are allowed to cross over, that they all —and I mean every single one of them— will go back there."

 

        Cold began to creep up on you, and so, you stuffed your hands in your pockets as you let your back rest against the creaking green bench.

        "Hey, don't get me wrong on this either: Earth isn't a bad place, I'm not saying that. Some things are fair, others aren't. All in all, most people have a decent standard of living and we live in relatively safe times and all. I'm just saying that running away won't make a difference."

 

        She asked, "Why not?"

 

        You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose as you took in a deep breath. For a moment, you considered just dropping the issue, doubting if she'd ever really see things your way. But for some reason you couldn't quite place, you felt the need to at least try — if not to convince her, then to convince yourself.

 

        "You think it'll set you free, no?" You looked at her, waiting for her to agree with you. "Like, just pack your stuff and go. On the open road and begin a new life, right?"

 

        She gave a shake of her head.

 

        "Sure, I guess you could do that," you said. "I guess you could pack all your stuff and cram it into your car and just start driving."

 

        You looked at her; she sat so close you barely had to look down anymore. "Then what?"

 

        She squinted her eyes and you didn't even wait for her to question you.

 

        "You drive for, I don't know, half an hour? And then you got to fill up on gas. Well, so much for freedom, better start looking for that credit card. But, you know, let's forget about that." You shook your head and bit your lips, suppressing the urge to light up another cigarette. "Let's just assume you don't have to fill up on gas. You just hop in your car and start driving and driving."

 

        The wind in which her hair had danced earlier had picked up, striking you as a cold assault. In return, the mare shifted right up against you side and you buried your neck a bit deeper into your jacket.

 

        "And you keep driving until you're at some new town. So, you stop." You turned to look her in the eyes. "That's where you'll start your new life, right?"

 

        She nodded.

 

        And you shook your head.

 

        "Don't you see? That it's exactly the same?" You lifted your shoulders and let a quiet sigh brush past your lips. "It doesn't matter where you go, alright? The same stuff happens everywhere. There's bars like Tony's everywhere. There's people like me everywhere."

 

        The moonlight had shifted a bit and right now, the both of you were entirely cast in the shadow of the tree.

 

        "It doesn't matter."

 

        Your hand began searching for the bag on the bench as you kept staring at the mare. Though entirely hidden in the dark, the pink of her eyes burned just as bright as it had done before. The moss, soft and pliant to your touch, tickled the palm of your hand.

 

        "You want to know what I think?" she asked, bringing herself close enough so you could see the entirety of her face again.

 

        You felt the corners of your lips tug upwards, but you didn't really feel like smiling much yet.

        "Humor me."

 

        She shook her head. "I think you're scared."

 

        Your hand fell on the smooth surface of the plastic.

 

        "I think you're scared of new things."

 

        With a soft thud, muted by a layer of dead leaves and more moss, the bag fell on the ground behind the bench, right next to her saddlebags. Her lips turned into that playful grin again as they pressed against yours. The wind, cold and harsh as it had been before, suddenly seemed to die out. There was only one sensation for you left to focus on, coursing through your body like an electric current.

        She was vibrant and energetic in all she did, but she didn't push. She gave you the time to adjust, simply holding herself against you, grinning that devious smile of hers.

        And then she broke the kiss.

 

        She bit her lower lip, her face still only inches away from yours. "Earlier, you said you weren't a judge."

 

        Staring at those full, white lips, you swallowed deeply. Your heart was trying to jump out of your chest.

 

        "Where does that leave you standing?"

 

        You didn't reply immediately. Your mental state had a bit of catching up to do first. She brought herself closer to you again, letting her tongue brush along the edge of her lower lip.

 

        "Have you ever thought about it?"

 

        Once more, you swallowed. How everything had suddenly turned around like this was something outside of your comprehension. Her question, on the other hand, wasn't.

        Slowly, you began nodding your head.

 

        "I think everyone's thought of it at least once."

 

        Her brow raised a little and you felt her breath touching your skin, right above your chin. Then you realized it. As she brought herself as close to you as she could, you felt it.

        A smile.

 

        And you kissed her back. You felt her smile against you and she didn't hold back any more. All that energy of hers, that drive, the vision she had for this world, she shared all of it with you in that kiss.

        You have no concept of what time passed by as you sat on that old, forgotten bench, kissing her, feeling her. You let your hands run over her coat and through her mane. She moaned into your mouth and you only pushed harder. Her tongue tried to wrap itself around yours, pushing and pulling to coax you into her mouth.

 

        Then, as if the world had been put on pause and started again, the night's cold wind blew against her bare frame and you both shivered. The light of the moon had shifted once again, and she was there for you to behold in all her beauty. Her pale coat, colored slightly off-white by the light overhead. Her mane dancing nonchalant in the wind, unperturbed by its icy temperature. And those eyes in which you saw something you'd deemed lost forever.

 

        Maybe you'd been sitting here longer than you thought, letting the alcohol ebb out of your mind. Or maybe the cold brought forth a sudden moment of clarity, lighting up your train of thought for just long enough. Or you simply wanted to get out of this freezing cold darkness.

 

        "My apartment isn't far from here."

 

        She bit her lower lip as she smiled, hopping off the bench as soon as you'd uttered those words.

 

 

        The walk was... Well, it wasn't much of a walk. It was a series of sprints, followed by pauses in which you crouched down to kiss her again; to run your hands down her soft, supple frame; to feel your heart finally beat again.

        In the end, you settled for a combination of both. You carried her so that you could both make your way to your home without having to miss her touch for longer than a second.

 

 

        Kicking the door shut behind you, you put her back down again.

 

        "Do you want a d—"

 

        She was panting, her chest rising and falling as she simply stood staring at you. She bit her lip again and it drove you crazy. Her eyes burned with passion and you wondered how such a small creature could contain so much energy.

 

        "Where's the bedroom?" she asked, slowly circling around you, tracing along your middle with her tail.

 

        Licking your lips, you turned to the right. "No drinks then."

 

        She hopped on your bed and lied herself down on her back, her sapphire mane splaying itself around her in semi-circle. With her head slightly cocked, she stared at you through half-lidded eyes as you crawled over on top of her.

        In the corner of your eye, you saw the clock on your nightstand displaying the time. You'd just have to call in sick today.

        Her eyes, radiant and beautiful, met yours. You shook your head inwardly, forgetting all about trivial matters like time as you slowly lowered yourself on her.

        It was time for a whole new experience.

 

        "Hey," she softly said, "my name i—"

 

        You silenced her with a kiss.

 

 

        Sometimes, you're better off not knowing.

 

 

 

                                «http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VVjLpE9NoZw»

 

 

 

To be continued.