With a Heavy Heart

by Krypqe

Interlude

An eerie silence shrouded Sugarcube corner.

It wasn’t that Mrs Cake disliked silences; she positively revelled in the
thought of just snatching couple of quiet seconds, in-between the
constant flow of customers, and Pinkie Pie’s incessant yet overly
optimistic babble.
However, when those seconds were snatched by Mrs Cake, they were always somewhat bittersweet.

In contrast with Pinkie’s overbearing, the silence was bland, boring.
Always, though, Mrs Cake would build the silences up, within her own
head, growing ever more excited, and when they came along, she would
always wonder to herself about why she built these moments up to
herself; as she always knew, in the end, they’d be disappointing.
Fleeting, too.
Ending as abruptly as they started, punctuated by the shrill alarm of the
oven, by the tinkling of the door bell or merely just the living,
breathing laughter of Pinkie Pie, finding hilarity, even in the mundane
face of life.

Mrs Cake supposed it was hope that kept her going. It kept her thinking
about what could happen, even if the thing that could happen was just
something as trivial as a few moments of silence.
Or perhaps it wasn’t the silence at all, but what the silence put into perspective.

The times lacking in vivacity contrasted Pinkie’s presence well, and even if Mrs Cake didn’t realise it sometimes, that was what kept her going.

Although nopony really knew it, save for her husband, Mrs Cake probably would
have left Sugarcube Corner, if Pinkie Pie hadn’t turned up.
It wasn’t the baking of cakes that was the issue; after all, nopony grew
weary of their cutie mark’s origins. It was the running of the shop
that’d made her want to leave.
Everyday, Mrs Cake would see the same old faces, come to order the same thing, day in, day out. Yet, even though they were such devoted customers, Mrs Cake hardly knew any of them.
If any at all.

It was only ever; “Good morning, Mrs Cake!”
Or an; “I’d like a batch of muffins, please, Mrs Cake!”
And then possibly a; “Thank you very much, Mrs Cake!”

Mrs Cake never really knew anypony, after moving to Ponyville, short of her husband, Carrot Cake.

Then, when a young Pinkie Pie had appeared in Ponyville, just, as it turned out, on a whim, Mrs Cake felt reason for staying.

Pinkie had exploded into Sugarcube Corner, on a particularly rainy afternoon,
which seemed to have shirked a large number of the Cakes’ customers, and
turned the whole store hooves-up.

Even though, without Mrs Cake’s permission, the excitable filly Pinkie Pie
had eaten much of the shop’s contents, without even so much as
acknowledging her, Mrs Cake was smiling.
This was because, in a short couple of minutes, the young pink filly that Mrs Cake hadn’t even heard mention of before had suddenly managed to show more gratitude for the cakes that she’d baked than everypony before her, put together.
It was as the young filly was attempting to climb a particularly tall
wedding cake, to reach the sickly-sweet candy bride and groom, Mrs Cake
was no longer smiling.

For the First time in a long while, Cup Cake laughed.

It crept up on her, at first, but as she watched the young pink pony’s
further attempts to climb up the icing-coated tiers, eventually
resulting in the collapse of the frosting-fortress beneath her, the
laugh became louder, until it filled Mrs Cake’s store to the brim.

Candy-ponies in mouth, and with a self-satisfied grin, the young Pinkie Pie spun
around, noticing Mrs Cake for the first time, and, instead of
apologising, like any other pony might well have done, Pinkie Pie
dropped the candy newly-weds, and joined in Mrs Cake’s laughter.

After the main body of the two’s laughter had subsided, into just a light
giggling, the young filly said her first words to Mrs Cake.

“You’re kinda funny, miss!”

Mrs Cake couldn’t help but smile, the filly that had appeared in her shop
and eaten all of her stock, climbing up cakes and spreading icing around
the room whilst not even realising she was in the presence of another
pony was calling her funny.

Then, before Mrs Cake knew it, Pinkie Pie had taken up residence within
Sugarcube Corner, but she didn’t mind. Pinkie was Mrs Cake’s life, or so
it seemed.
It wasn’t “I’d better go and open up Sugarcube Corner,” in the mornings, anymore.
It was always “I’d better go and check in on Pinkie Pie…”

Sometimes, to Mrs Cake, it was like Pinkie Pie was the daughter she never had.
Even if she wasn’t, Pinkie sure brought that laughter into Mrs Cake’s
life.

Wallowing in the thoughts of Pinkie Pie only made the silence worse for Mrs Cake.

It wouldn’t have been so harsh on her, if Carrot Cake had been there, as
his presence would have at least incurred on the deathly silence of the
shop.

However, it wasn’t Pinkie Pie’s absence that had stolen away the sounds from Sugarcube Corner and Mrs Cake.
It was the presence of a letter, left behind by the young pink filly that had once burst into her life.

As abruptly as Pinkie Pie had exploded into Mrs Cake’s life, with her
ever-present element of laughter, the explosion had died down, leaving
only ashes of memories behind.

Mrs Cake looked down at the letter Pinkie Pie had left, and as she stared
into it, drops began to fall from her eyes, soaking into the paper.

At least she didn’t have to deal with the silence anymore.