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// Chapter Seven: The Wind Escaping My Balloons 
// Story: The Lost Pie 
// by Crescent Cloud 
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The next morning it was Saturday, and Coco, while still needing to meet with Suri for business matters later in the day, had the good fortune to have the morning free. She was just coming down and ready to get her oats, when I met her in the kitchen, already in the middle of trying to whip something up for her for breakfast. 
“Oh, Mina, you didn’t have to...”
“Don’t mention it, it’s the least I can do for somepony who’s been so kind to me. Besides...I kinda applied for this job at a bakery yesterday, and I want to find out if I’m any good.”
“Uh, you mean you applied to a bakery without knowing if you’re good at baking?”
“Oh, well...yes, I suppose. I really don’t know what I want to do just yet. That’s kinda one of the reasons I came to the city, to find out what my purpose could be in Equestria, really find myself, you know.”
“Okay then. Well, I’m sure if you felt confident enough to apply, you couldn’t be that bad at it. Then again, have you ever baked before?” 
“Well yeah, Pink....I mean, yes, I’ve baked a little, but it’s been a while, and I don’t know if I still have it in me.”
That was when the sound of the oven timer went off.
“Ooo! The cinnamon rolls are done!”
I took out the rolls, which looked a little different than the ones at the bakery. They seemed darker.
“Here, have one.”
“Oh, um, I’m no baker, but shouldn’t they have frosting on them first?”
“Oh yeah, whoops, my mistake. Let me just put some on.”
One would think that applying frosting to cinnamon rolls would be a fairly simple task, yet with alarming flair, I managed to get the stuff nearly everywhere but the rolls, and what did get on the rolls was a spectacular mess. I was actually shocked by my clumsiness. I giggled nervously, and I could see that Coco looked nervous also. She didn’t say anything but took one of the rolls out of politeness. Her face after taking a bite spoke more than she could ever have herself: it contorted into an unmistakable grimace that suggested she had just tasted raw sewage and tried to wash it down with prune juice. She gulped down the bite with noticeable difficulty, and forced a smile, clearly wishing to spare my feelings.
“Oh, wow, not too bad. Y’know, I...” She paused, looking up at the clock rather jerkily before cutting herself off and quickly saying, “Wow, I am actually late to meet Suri. She said I should get to her early so we could go over her new clothing line ideas. But hey, thank you so much for the cinnamon roll. I’ll take this one to go, and I hope it goes well for you at the bakery. See ya!” 
She clopped out, hastily grabbing her collar, tie, and hair clip. I went to the window, just in time to see her throw the roll into the trash. It hurt a bit, but I couldn’t exactly blame her, given how I had botched them all up. Not a great first attempt, but I figured I was just rusty and needed practice. Hopefully I would pick it back up on the job at the bakery. 
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Feeling unsteady about my capability to hold down a job at the bakery successfully, I nonetheless marched over for my fist shift, hoping my failure that morning would be a fluke, and I would find my stride at the shop. Of course, that didn’t happen. In fact, the problems I caused in the course of a few hours at the bakery made me want to go back to Ponyville right then and jump headfirst into the mirror pond. 
I went in and donned the apron, and then set about trying to bake some cinnamon rolls, cupcakes, and muffins. I also made the unfortunate mistake of trying to make a souffle on my first day. Here’s what happened, in summary: the cinnamon rolls came out darker than the ones I made at home, and the frosting on top looked terrible, like someone tried to apply it from a distance of twenty feet away with a fire hose, while gripping the hose in the middle. My cupcakes somehow came out the exact opposite, being so underdone that they would more appropriately be called cup-mush, and the frosting on them looked somehow even worse than the cinnamon rolls. And the muffins were so tasteless that they were like cardboard. Actually, cardboard would probably be tastier than that. But the worst was the souffle, which did in fact rise – so much so, that it reached a breaking point and exploded over the entire kitchen, making a mess of Discord-esque proportions.
The boss walked in, saw the mess, and the look on her face, much like Coco’s earlier that morning, told me all I needed to know, and I walked out with my head held low. Clearly, not all of Pinkie’s talents transferred to me, and I was so upset by the massive failure of that day that I went back to Coco’s apartment right away and didn’t come back out the rest of the day. 
When Coco finally came back late, I greeted her somberly, and she responded with admirable sympathy.
“Oh Mina, I’m so sorry that happened.”
“It was a complete disaster.”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out. A lot of ponies don’t find their calling on the first try.”
“Yeah, I guess I should’ve figured, given how you responded to my cinnamon rolls this morning.”
“Oh, you caught on to that, huh?”
“Yeah, I could tell. Don’t worry about it, I didn’t like them either. I threw them out.”
“Well, keep trying. I certainly don’t mind if you need to stay here a little longer while you sort things out. I actually really enjoy talking to you Mina. You have a comforting way about you, and you’re so easy to get along with.”
“Aw, thanks, that means a lot. I like talking to you too. Oh! Speaking of which, how was your day? Did you and Suri get a lot done with the designs?”
“Yeah, we did. Suri is always working so hard, just the chance to get to help her is so great. She’s really helping me to break into the fashion world.”
“So, does that mean you have your own designs too?”
“Sure, I’ve been working on some designs, but I haven’t really done anything with them yet. Suri really needs help with hers, and she’s the real professional, so she needs all my attention to assist her with her designs.”
“Do you two even discuss your ideas?”
“Well, no, not exactly. I’ve thought of trying to bring up some of my ideas with her, but she’s so focused, so ambitious, I just never found the right moment.” 
“Well, at least you get to help her with her stuff, so you still get to be creative with fashion, right?”
“Oh, well, I don’t usually add anything to her ideas. I mostly provide her with other essentials, like coffee, to help her focus on her work, and I help with the sewing. I am only an assistant, after all.”
“Um...well, true, I guess, but.....well......”
“What?”
“I just don’t think it seems like she’s really helping you to break into fashion at all. It seems like she’s just furthering her own career, with you getting most of the labor done.”
“Well, of course she’s furthering her career, you can hardly blame her for that. And yes, I know I don’t really get to work on my own designs much, but this is Manehattan, and it’s hard enough getting work in the fashion world as it is. It was kind of her to even let me be her assistant.”
“Of course, of course. I certainly don’t know much about the fashion world, so I won’t presume. I guess I just wonder if she really has your future in mind, and if she intends to actually help you break out on your own someday.”
“I’m sure she does. She’s just preoccupied with her ideas at the moment and needs to concentrate on them. She has her priorities in order.”
“Okay, if you say so. You know her better than me, after all. Um...what’s wrong?”
I noticed her looking askance at me, or rather, at my hoof or my flank or something. 
“Oh, well, nothing’s wrong, per se, but I am a bit confused.”
“About what?”
“Well, I could be wrong, but didn’t you have three balloons in your cutie mark?”  
Stunned by her question, I looked down at my flank and was absolutely flabbergasted to see that one of the three balloons had vanished, almost as if it had popped.