Light appeared in the shop as Lily opened her eyes. It was daytime now, but night a moment before. She sat at the countertop to her shop — the one that had the register and the good, thoughtful placement and the small basket of assorted florals sitting as a sort of last-minute purchase encouragement for customers.
Lily sat there because she wanted to be there, and she sat there in the day because sitting there at nighttime would be rather silly indeed, for only did two customers ever come at night before and one of them didn’t want to buy anything because he was hiding from the bull-snarts and it was quite possible that he had a bit too much of Auntie Mildred’s Elderberry Wine because that was what he eventually threw up all over the dandelions.
The other customer bought a bouquet of flowers for his wife’s birthday that was that same day and Lily really hoped that it went alright.
The dandelions were doing quite well that morning.
Daisy was there, but then again, she always had been for as long as the shop was there around her.
The bell on the front door jingled to signify the approach of a new customer.
Lily nodded her head in approval. The day, it seemed, was off to a fantastic start.
“That went well,” Lily said to Daisy, who stood, as she always did, by the side and never at the front.
“It did. How do you feel about that?” Daisy asked.
“I feel…” Lily thought. “I feel, I feel like it is a great day. Um…”
“Something on your mind?”
“How can one tell if a day is great?”
“How is it a great day for you?” Daisy asked.
“Well. You see,” Lily said, “it’s quite chilly, and we are in our store. The bell rung, and everything is fine except for the fact that where is Rose?”
“She’s not here, that’s for sure,” Daisy said. “Where do you think she is?”
“I see. You’re doing that thing with the questions,” Lily said. “Perhaps the day isn’t so great after all!”
“What thing with the questions?”
“Where you respond to my questions with a question. You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” Lily pouted. “I’m not sure I like it very much.”
Daisy nodded to herself, glancing sideways. “I know. But to be fair, I only ask the questions because I can’t give the answers.”
“Hm,” Lily considered, stroking her chin. “That’s true. I suppose you have a good, fine point. What was it you were asking me?”
“Where do you think Rose is?”
“Not here.”
“That seems like an answer that we have,” Daisy said.
“Indeed,” Lily agreed. “But where is she?”
“Where do you think Rose is?”
“Not here.”
“Alright, ask me again one more time,” Daisy said.
“Why?”
“Because I’m hoping you will have a different answer,” Daisy explained.
“But wouldn’t that require a different question?”
“Ask me again,” Daisy said, “and we’ll see.”
Lily thought about it for a while. It seemed reasonable for a question to have many different answers. After all, things never stayed the same, and nothing was forever.
“Forever is alone,” Lily said.
“Pardon me?” Daisy asked.
“You see, nothing is forever except for forever and nothing, which is also forever. Forever would like for everything to be forever, but it’s only nothing that is. And since everything except for forever and nothing is not forever, forever only has nothing to be forever with. And since nothing is nothing, and forever is not nothing, then nothing is a forever that is not there, and thusly forever is still alone even though nothing is also forever.”
“And what does that tell you?” Daisy asked.
“That being more of something can also be less of something.”
“Exactly so,” Daisy said.
“For example, this shop.” Lily motioned to the corners. “There are more questions, but less answers. If you put it together…”
Daisy listened intently.
“Where is Rose?” Lily asked. “I feel that is more answer and less question.”
“I suppose so,” Daisy agreed. “Sometimes knowing the answer to one thing is also knowing the answer to a great many things.”
“Weren’t you supposed to say ‘Where do I think she is’?” Lily asked.
“Did you want me to?”
“Perhaps later,” Lily said.
Lily waited.
“She’s not in this store,” Lily said, as she looked around. “She’s not quite here.”
“Why do you think this?” Daisy said, her ears perking forward.
“Huh.” Lily responded, as she stared into the shadows. The shadows stared back. Lily glanced at the dust dancing around in the shafts of light that hit the hydrangeas. They were perfectly so, and the hydrangeas perfectly watered. Insects had been munching on a few leaves here and there as she thought they would, and not on the leaves that she thought they wouldn’t.
For a second, Lily felt her heart thump. Once. Perfectly.
The air was stilled.
“Huh.” Lily repeated. “Where are we?”
It was a simple question, an honest question — as honest as questions can get given the limitations of scope that one pony has for the universe.
The answer was equally honest.
“We are here,” Daisy replied.
“But where is here?” Lily tramped her hoof onto the floor.
“Where we’ve come.”
“A-ha!” Lily proclaimed, sticking a hoof upward. “I’ve caught you!”
Daisy tilted her head.
“You see,” Lily continued, “If we have come to someplace, that means we have come from someplace, correct?”
“Yes, that would be the conventional wisdom,” Daisy replied.
“That means there’s more to this place than the shop,” Lily said, sweeping her hoof throughout the air. “More than these shelves and this floor and the musty air which is surprisingly fresh given I haven’t opened a window in more than three days and also more than those windows as well.”
“The windows don’t open, anyway,” Daisy said, looking toward them. “They’re the sort that don’t open.”
“They used to.”
“Yes.”
“Just like we used to be somewhere and then came here.”
“It’s the store,” Daisy said, matter-of-factly.
“And where were we four days ago?”
“The store.”
“So!” Lily stated, pushing a cactus into place. “We’ve come from the store to the store.”
“That is… correct.” Daisy nodded.
“But it’s different.”
“How so?”
Lily motioned to the cactus, glad that she set one up beforehand. “Consider this fine specimen. Parodia Mammulosa. The lemon ball cactus. It feels right.”
The cactus sat on the table in all its splendour, shining forth brightly as a beacon and champion of its kind.
“It’s rather spiky looking,” Daisy commented.
“But if one were to yank out all its spinkies,” Lily said, mimicking the act of a deranged pony yanking out all the spinkies of a lemon ball cactus, “then it would still be a cactus, but it would not feel the same.”
“It would feel rather more comfortable, wouldn’t it?”
“Exactly!” Lily said, smashing her hoof onto the cactus in desperate fervour. “It would be!”
“Are you saying this shop feels more comfortable?”
“I’m saying…” Lily muttered, yanking out all the spinkies from her hoof, “it feels too comfortable. It feels like the store, and looks like the store, but it doesn’t have pointy bits. It doesn’t have bite, and it doesn’t have teeth. Do you know why?”
“I can’t answer that,” Daisy said.
Humming to herself, Lily started to line up the needles on the desk, all in a row. They were all the same length, all had a slightly yellow smell and a musty flavour, much like a small box filled with nails.
“This is why,” Lily said, displaying her finished work.
“Looks good,” Daisy said.
Lily shook her hoof at the needles, her mane bobbing as her body shook to the rhythm of her leg dancing through the air. “See… see… there’s something quite wrong about these spines. There’s something quite, quite off about them and I just can’t tell what. And I can’t describe it.”
“Why can’t you describe it?” Daisy asked.
“Because someone has stolen my words.” Lily declared. “Stolen it, like someone has stolen the spines off this cactus. Who would do such a thing?”
“Not many ponies come to this store,” Daisy said.
“Not many ponies!” Lily echoed. “Not many! Just myself, and you, and Rose.”
Lily’s heart beat once more.
Her face froze in mid-yell.
Her eyes looked at the store once more.
Lily gently lowered her hoof to the countertop, where it started rubbing furiously into the wood, as if it was trying to hide itself in the grain.
“Lily?” Daisy asked.
“Something’s changed.” Lily said.
“What’s changed?”
“Ask me. Ask me now.” Lily said, quickly, almost with a small tinge of urgency.
“Where do you think Rose is?” Daisy asked.
“She’s here.” Lily said, pointing at the needles. “Isn’t she?”
“Yes,” Daisy replied, smiling.