Twas Midday...

It was a soggy, gloomy afternoon with a darker, wetter evening coming soon. I sat in a cafe, in an attempt to avoid the day and fuel my need for interaction by listening to the cacophonous roar of boystrus conversations within this rotting symbol of post modernist pride. It was another bitter year full of self isolation and indirect cries for help. These days I never spoke more than necessary, and the only interaction I had with ponies was listening to their conversations. I noticed someone staring, but it wasn't a rude stare, but a calculating, thoughtful, gaze from a pony as curious as a ponderous scientist focused on the next interesting experiment. It was almost malicious in that sense, but nonetheless interesting. What would this pony do? What would they say? How do I avoid it? I let out a death row sigh as if awaiting execution as the figure slunk through the crowd, slick as a shadow, purposeful and deliberate until they stared at me with those big, curious eyes and spoke in a tone I nearly despised.

"Is this seat taken?"