//------------------------------//
// Part 1: The Store – XIX 
// Story: Trolley Pushers 
// by Acologic 
//------------------------------//

‘Right...’

Ale pushed open the door to his groundflat, knowing Farl was in and hoping he wouldn’t have to speak to him. To his disappointment, he saw the lights of the corridor were on and the door to the latter’s room was open, the sound of a zip being done or undone issuing from within. Either he was leaving to train or he had come back from training. Neither helped Ale because Farl had heard him come in, and being a polite pony, he would want at least to say hello if not to check on his welfare to boot. Ale smiled forcibly as Farl’s light hoof-fall reached the corridor, catching him with his underzipper half off. 

‘Hey, Ale,’ sang Farl in his thick Canterlot accent. ‘How’s it going, man?’ he asked at exactly the moment in which Ale did the same, which made Ale blush surely redder than paint, but he stuck to his smile more firmly for it. 

‘Not bad, yeah, not bad,’ said Ale. ‘I was just down at the store, checking on a friend.’

‘Oh nice,’ said Farl, his large eyes sincere in their approval. 

‘And yourself?’ Ale prompted.

‘I’m doing good. I’ve just come back from the swimming pool, and now I’m about to be going out for a run.’

Ale grinned with what he hoped was appropriate enthusiasm. ‘Nice, nice. Still training hard, then? When’s the race again? Was it at the end of the summer?’

‘Yeah, it’s around then,’ said Farl. 

‘Nice. Well, yeah. Good that you’re sticking in, training hard.’ He clung to his smile like a drowning pony to a plank of wood. Of bloody course it was good he was sticking in, and who was Ale to say it to Farl? Farl was the mature, disciplined party of the groundflat’s two residents. What a fraud he was even to consider bringing it up. Farl was graciousness itself.

‘I mean, yeah,’ he said, shrugging it off as though his many hours of hard work were nothing. ‘It is what it is, you know. I’ve just got to keep going now at the end. Especially with work and everything taking up the rest of my time.’ He nodded, not looking Ale in the face. That was something Ale noticed about Farl. He was a confident speaker, but he met eyes as rarely as Ale did. It was really, really strange and amusing, Ale noted, that he and his flatmate, who’d lived together for many months, scarcely spoke or knew anything about each other. Ale put this down to himself being himself, but at times like this he wondered whether Farl’s own tendencies, as his mother called them, were of a similar ilk. Still, they had a healthy arrangement. The groundflat was kept near-spotless between them, and they didn’t get in each other’s way. It had never been formally, or even vocally, agreed on. But Ale considered it an unspoken contract, and perhaps Farl did too. There was no way of telling.

‘Well,’ said Ale, ‘I won’t keep you.’ He felt as though he should have added a goodbye, but they lived under the same roof. What a stupid thing to say to a pony you lived with when all you were doing was going to your room. Farl muttered some nice-sounding sentiment that Ale didn’t fully catch and smiled. And just then Ale’s Com went off, which he usually disliked. But now it was a timely excuse.

‘Oh, sorry,’ said Ale as if their so-called conversation had been rudely interrupted. ‘I’d better take this.’

‘Alright. I’m just going out anyway. Catch you later, man.’

‘Yeah, catch you later.’ Ale’s stomach jumped when he saw that it was Gat. Normally it would have sank, but he was awaiting news on the shopper park, and it seemed Gat had been true to his word for once by getting back to him as promised. He didn’t like taking calls when Farl was in, but Farl was leaving in a minute and work-related conversations were usually OK seeing as during them Ale never had to reveal anything personally compromising. Not that he thought Farl would abuse any sensitive information if he did overhear it. But Ale was openly paranoid about such things. You never knew.

‘Hello?’ he said, answering.

‘It’s Gat,’ grunted Gat with customary dissatisfaction. 

‘Hi, Gat,’ Ale responded heartily, knowing Farl could be listening. ‘What can I do for you?’ Gat, however, was not Farl and did not appreciate this effort at cheerful optimism. 

‘Have I caught you at a good time?’ he grunted and before Ale could speak added, ‘Good. You’re needed tomorrow for a meeting.’

‘A meet—?’

‘Head office has sent an inspector down to brief us all on this shopper-park-road business. It’s all department staff to attend, so I’m calling each of you to let you know. I’ll be in-store as well. We’re meeting in front of the trolley hut. Half-past one, just after lunch tomorrow, and don’t be late. This is my department you’re representing. I’m telling you now so you know.’

‘Right, OK, don’t worry, I’ll be there on –’

‘Good. See you then.’

‘Bye, Gat –’

Gat had, of course, closed his Com already, and as Ale closed his, he couldn’t help but notice he was looking forward to the meeting. It wasn’t merely because he was curious. It wasn’t just about potentially getting some answers at last. It was more the fact – and he was taken aback by how clearly he could see it all of a sudden – that he was pleased he would be seeing Ant, Lime, East and now Hull in a context he understood and, above all, one in which nothing was expected of him. He frowned and exhaled some air amusedly as he replaced his Com and dropped lightly into his folding chair to tuck into a bar of chocolate.