- >speaking of home
 - >it’s not really yours
 - >nor is it a home
 - >a family was nice enough to give you their attic space for a modest sum of bits per month
 - >it is a roof over your head (literally), and they had some nice cookin’, so you couldn’t complain
 - >and you also couldn’t burn it down, but your message got through to Pinkie either way, thank god
 - >you stand a dozen feet away from the house, before deciding to continue onwards, sleep befor ework be damned
 - >it’s just too nice a night to waste of replenishing your serotonin levels just yet
 - >And so it goes
 - >from the house you’re staying in, to the mayor’s office, to Rarity’s shop, all the way to the outskirts of town where Fluttershy is and hooking back west
 - >your legs are slowly tiring by this point
 - >you weren’t particularly active back in your old life, but you did often walk around for long hours
 - >on a few, particularly drunk occasions, you walked for three hours straight
 - >often mumbling and grumbling some very misanthropic, some might say edgy, claims about the world
 - >now all you have to get drunk on here is Cider
 - >although you guess you could start your own venture into the world of alcohol
 - >you need some grapes, or any old fruit, leave it to rot or ‘’ferment’’, squeeze out the juice
 - >and presto: instant booze
 - >not as strong as you’d like it, but at least it would add variety
 - >maybe you could give the Apple family a run for their money
 - >you’d just need a manager, and a salesman
 - >thinking about the very logistics of it (price of fruit, price of labour, price of product, gross, taxes...) you end up close to the Treebrary
 - >not very surprising a light is seen through one of the bottom windows
 - >Twilight is probably studying something, or is just reading for the fun of it and forgot the time
 - >maybe she has a book on making alcohol
 - >you step up to the door
 - >Twilight hasn’t noticed you, otherwise she’d’ve opened it by now, since you passed close by her window
 - >you inhale deeply and exhale
 - >OK, you think, just knock, ask her if she has the book, if she doesn’t: no matter, if she does ask her if you can borrow it
 - >no biggie, simple interaction
 - >then why are you hyper-ventilating and your palms sweating?
 - >because you’d rather not make a fool out of yourself
 - >oh, you can get pissed off easy enough, but simple interaction?
 - >that’s too much
 - >which is especially ironic considering you need to ask Ms. Shut-In for something and you fear HER
 - >or rather, the fool you can make yourself in front of her
 - >oh come on!
 - >she’ll understand
 - >it’s not like she hasn’t spilled her spaghetti in the past
 - >god’s sake, remember when she tried to tell you her library doors are always open and instead blurted out ‘’buttbrardy’’?
 - >if anyone should be able to help you stuff your spaghetti back into your pocket in case of spillage it’s Twilight
 - >OK, inhale once more
 - >chest out, spine straight
 - >and—
 - >the light goes out in your peripheral vision
 - >she...
 - >she’s going to bed
 - >w-well, you don’t want to seem like a creeper, knocking this late in the night
 - >especially when she’s about to go to bed
 - >yeah, best not to disturb her
 - >just ask tomorrow
 - >tomorrow’s good
 - >you move briskly back to that-house-you’re-staying-in-you-erroneously-call-yours-sometimes
 - >only to find out that it too has no lights beaming through the windows
 - >w-well, you don’t want to disturb the nice family’s sleep
 - >being that much of a burden is really inconsiderate
 - >especially after they’ve put up with your human-appetite and general awkward person
 - >you look around, and see only darkened windows
 - >the only source of illumination being Luna’s Moon
 - Heh... Luna’s ‘’moon’’
 - >well, it’s not like there’s monster roaming around in Ponyville
 - >you opt to somewhere where there are bushes and sleep there
 - >out of sight, out of mind
 - >hopefully the dawn will awaken you before anyone finds you there
 - >you don’t need that in your life
 

