Spike rubbed his eyes. If there was one thing that could be said for the Land of the Rising Sun, it was that it didn't lack for daylight. For Spike, this was simply logical. After all, where else was Celestia supposed to put the sun during the night?
Unfortunately, it had the unwanted effect of making it very hard to sleep. Even during the 'day', sunlight still bled out over the horizon, and at night, well, it was like living under a giant light-bulb. Or living in a place with a regular sun.
Spike's claw ran through the seal of an envelope. He'd read one more letter, he thought to himself, before doing his best to block out the sunlight using a supply of wooden planks he had nicked from a junkyard. Despite their... strangeness... Spike always found Twilight's letters reminded him of home. They also reminded him of Twilight's letters to Celestia, many of which he had written as Twilight narrated to him.
He looked at a large pile of neatly arranged, carefully organised (both alphabetically and chronologically) letters. They had started all right... It was perhaps a bit odd to send Spike a detailed account on why your friends never truly left you, but it was sweet, in a way. Something told Spike that Twilight had never truly stopped sending letters to Celestia. All the little things she had learned must have just accumulated in her mind and were now spilling out into everyday letters.
The later ones... Well, Spike assumed she must have ran out of friendship lessons, and moved onto post-it-notes-on-the-fridge territory.
He pulled out this latest letter. Unsurprisingly, it followed the unsettling trend the messages had been following.
Dear Princess Spike,
Today I learned that if you don't clean your fridge, mould begins to grow near the back, an Rarity says it's utterly disgusting.
Your faithful ex-guardian, Twilight Sparkle (P)
PS: I also learned that it's perfectly radical to wear baseball caps backwards, no matter how many decades ago it was in fashion, and that it's okay for other ponies to have awesomer fashion than me no matter what I say.
Spike put the letter down.
It's not that he didn't appreciate Twilight keeping in touch, but a simple 'hello, I'm doing great' would have been much appreciated. Spike couldn't help but feel an uncomfortable sensation of passive-aggressiveness every time he read a Twiletter (or 'twitter' as he liked to call them).