Not long after Spoiled Rich has departed, the clock chimes 3. You sit up straight on the couch, expecting your next client any second now, just like the others before them. You’re feeling both amazed and gratified over what’s happened so far, with the ponies you’ve helped up to this point, and hope to keep this momentum going.
However, the chimes of the clock die away, and no knock is heard at the door. A full minute passes, and the silence remains unbroken.
Your client is late.
This has never happened before. Even when you had informal sessions, the ponies you helped were always punctual. This is unprecedented.
Well, that’s not too big of a deal. Sometimes ponies are a little late to their appointments. It happens. There are factors to take into account that may delay them, after all. It’s no reason to be worried just yet.
The minutes creep by, and there’s still no sound at the door. Every second, you expect to hear the sound of an approaching pony, but nothing happens.
It’s now ten past 3, and you’re starting to feel a little anxious. It has nothing to do with the appointment itself being kept. You’re more worried about the client. What could be holding them up? Did something happen? Did they have an accident? There are factors to take into account that may delay them, but some may be more serious than others. You hope they’re all right.
“Maybe they’ve decided to chicken out. Maybe they made the appointment, but then thought about how silly it sounded, and canceled. Can’t fault them for a last-minute change of heart over something like this. You can’t win them all.”
You hate to admit it to yourself, but that’s certainly a possibility. Ponies are free to change their minds, after all, and it’s not your place to make their decisions for them. If something’s not their cup of tea, it’s not up to you to make them accept it. Still, the idea that a pony would sign up for affection therapy, then decide not to go through with it, is a little disheartening. Could it be because of you? It’s not a comforting thought to imagine so.
But even if they did cancel, who’s to say it’s because they don’t want the treatment in the first place? It’s just as likely that something else came up today that they hadn’t expected, and they’d be looking to reschedule for another day. Yes, that’s just as plausible. One has to account for the unexpected, whatever it may be. There’s no reason to fault yourself for it just now, without all the facts.
“You’re so naive. Always trying to latch onto any optimistic hope, even if the truth’s staring you in the face. Not every explanation’s happy and innocent, you know. Sometimes you’ve got to accept when it really is the worst-case scenario. You really are too soft for your own good, and so are these ponies for buying into this. Well, the ones who bother to show up, anyway.”
“Get. Out. Of. My. Head!” you snap, rapping the knuckles of your left fist against your forehead.
Why? Why do you have to keep hearing these words in your head? Are you going to go your whole life being haunted by these taunts, in his voice?...
All of a sudden, there’s a knock on the door, and your heart gives a leap of surprise. You straighten yourself back up, even though your forehead’s smarting a little, clear your throat, and say,
“Come in!”
The door opens, and Guest #4 of the day finally enters: Mrs. Cup Cake.
Mrs. Cake and her husband, Mr. Carrot Cake, are two ponies that everypony in Ponyville knows, just like Pinkie Pie. All three of them work in Sugarcube Corner, the town’s primary stop for sweet treats. It’s a great place to grab a tasty baked good, then sit down and chat a while with other customers. It always sees good business due to its convenience, its delicious wares, and its prompt, friendly service. You always make it a point to stop by at least once a week to see what’s new, sample their latest confections.
Mrs. Cake is a blue Earth pony with a mane and tail that look like silky swirls of pink cake frosting, which match her rose-pink eyes, as well as her spherical earrings. She’s quite curvy, with a round belly and a plump, dimple-cheeked face. This, combined with the apron she’s always attired in, gives her a very hospitable, motherly appearance. As she actually is a mother, it’s only fitting. However, she’s not wearing her apron today; possibly she left it back at home since she’d be going to the spa, but it is a bit odd to see her without it. Her cutie mark is a trio of cupcakes.
Mrs. Cake is the sort of pony who any young foal would be lucky to have for a mother: very kind and doting, always greeting others with a sunny smile and a fresh-baked treat. Combined with the polite and friendly demeanor of Mr. Cake, Sugarcube Corner is always a pleasant place to hang out. You sometimes see them outside the shop as well, out on a stroll with their adorable twin foals, Pound Cake and Pumpkin Cake. Strangely, while their parents are Earth ponies, the two foals are a pegasus and unicorn. No one seems to question it, though. Pony genetics seems to be a subject you’ll never understand.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Cake,” you say.
“Hello, dearie,” says Mrs. Cake. “Good to see you. I’m so sorry I’m late. There was a last-minute order put in just as Carrot and I were about to leave for the spa, and we had to leave the instructions with Pinkie.”
Aha. So it was an innocent hold-up, as you’d expected.
“No worries at all,” you say. “Some things are unavoidable, I know. We should still have plenty of time.”
Mrs. Cake smiles gratefully, and her eyes encounter the plate of cookies on the table.
“Oh! You made cookies for your guests!” she says, delighted. “Well, isn’t that a funny coincidence. Here I thought I was the only one bringing treats.”
She laughs, and it’s only then that you notice the box perched on her back. A strong, sweet smell is coming from it, and there seems to be a bundle of napkins fastened to the top of it with a rubber band.
“That is quite the coincidence,” you say, chuckling. “You can set that right on the table here, if you’d like.”
Mrs. Cake does so, popping the lid off as she does so. Inside are half a dozen cupcakes, topped with chocolate icing.
“Those look delicious,” you say.
“Thank you,” says Mrs. Cake. “They’re peanut butter cupcakes with chocolate icing, one of our best-selling recipes.”
“Very nice,” you say, approvingly.
“Would you like one now?”
Would you? How could you possibly refuse?
“Well, don’t mind if I do!” you say, eagerly.
You reach over, pick one from out of the box, and take a big bite. As someone who loves both chocolate and peanut butter, the result is an absolute explosion of deliciousness in your mouth. Before you know it, the cupcake is gone, and your face is besmirched with frosting.
“I guess that means you liked it,” says Mrs. Cake, with an amused titter, as she hands you a napkin.
“Liked it?” you echo, wiping your face clean. “I loved it! Sugarcube Corner always makes the best treats.”
Mrs. Cake beams at the compliment.
“Well, then,” you say, as you put the napkin aside, “if you’d like to join me up here, Mrs. Cake, we can get started.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
Bracing her front hooves on the couch, Mrs. Cake heaves herself up onto it, although it looks like it takes a bit of effort from her, as she sits back and wipes her brow.
“Whew,” she breathes. “I came here as quickly as I could, so I’m a little bit winded. I was never in the best shape, even when I was younger, so I’m not used to doing a lot of running. You’d think keeping up with two energetic foals would make me a bit fitter, but I guess not, when I’m still surrounded by so many sweets.”
She pats her protruding stomach with a good-humored chuckle, and you can’t help but smile as well. Pinkie was certainly right; she really does take her larger size in stride, and seems quite proud of it, too. It’s something she certainly shares with her plump pink protege. It reminds you of something you once heard, though you don’t remember who it was from: ‘ponies who love to eat are always the best ponies’. Well, the ones you’ve met with good appetites, like Pinkie, Applejack, and Mrs. Cake, are all amiable and friendly.
“So, Mrs. Cake,” you say, “you’ve decided to give affection therapy a try.”
“I certainly have,” says Mrs. Cake. “I heard Pinkie talking about it, and it got me curious. Helping ponies relax and feel better through ear scratching and belly rubs? Well, it does certainly sound like the kind of thing she’d be excited about. Well, when we heard the spa advertising that they’d be offering it as a service, I knew I had to see it for myself, so I signed up as soon as I could. Lucky I did,” she adds, with a friendly wink. “Your sign-up sheet filled up pretty fast, I think.”
“Quite a surprise, believe me,” you say, modestly. “I guess I didn’t really think about how many ponies would be into it, to necessitate a waiting list.”
Mrs. Cake merely smiles at this.
“So, since you know how affection therapy works,” you go on, “I feel I should ask: has anything been troubling you lately? Of course, it’s not just for the troubled and stressed, specifically. It’s for any and everyone.”
Mrs. Cake pauses, a slight frown creasing her amiable face. She looks as though something’s on her mind, and she’s on the verge of saying it, but she gives herself a little shake.
“Oh, no, nothing troubling, really,” she says, casually. “Carrot and I just need some time at the spa every now and again, after everything we have to do all day. It gets very busy and very tiring.”
“Ah, that’s right, you said Mr. Cake was here, too,” you say.
“Yes. He settled for a massage, while I decided to give affection therapy a try. He’s a bit more comfortable with what he’s familiar with, so he wasn’t sure about signing himself up for a session just yet.”
“Perfectly understandable,” you say.
You have noticed that it’s largely been mares who’ve been actively willing to participate in affection therapy. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but you can’t help but wonder if there are any stallions who would be willing to give it a try for themselves. Perhaps they’re put off by some of the techniques, thinking them too cutesy for their liking, but that didn’t stop Spike and Big Mac from getting ear scratches at the very least. You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see how things pan out.
“But I can understand why you’d both need some time away,” you say. “Even if it’s doing something you love, it must get pretty busy at Sugarcube Corner.”
“Very busy,” says Mrs. Cake. “Some days can be a bit slower and easier to deal with, but usually, we’ve got a lot of customers popping by for treats, or else some heavy orders for catering. All three of us have our hooves full on days like that. Carrot and I have all of our baking and catering on top of taking care of Pound and Pumpkin. Like you said, we’re doing what we love, but it can be a bit much at times.”
“That’s right, your twins,” you say, recollecting. “Keeping up with them on top of everything else, I can’t even imagine.”
“Well, thankfully, we’ve got Pinkie Pie to help with that,” says Mrs. Cake. “She handles all of what we can’t do at the time for us, on top of her occasional adventures to save Equestria or help out somepony in need. I don’t know what we’d do without her.”
“She’s a remarkable pony,” you say, nodding.
“She truly is,” says Mrs. Cake, fondly. “Ever since she first came to Ponyville as a little filly, we’ve always felt like she’s been part of the family. Carrot and I had always thought about having children, you know, and Pinkie’s been as good as a daughter to us.”
Now that’s an unbelievably sweet thing to hear. You can certainly see that kind of bond being possible between Pinkie and her employers. You’ve never met Pinkie’s biological family, though you’ve often heard her sing the praises of her older sister, Maud. To have both blood relatives and a surrogate family must be wonderful. It makes you wish you had had something like that growing up...
“Sometimes I worry, though.”
You give a start. Mrs. Cake’s words have stirred you out of your momentary reverie. You can see that the smile has vanished from her face, to be replaced by a preoccupied frown. It’s the same expression that was on her face when you asked if anything was troubling her.
“About what?” you ask.
“That we don’t show Pinkie the appreciation she deserves.”
You blink in surprise. How could she be worried about that, given how close they all are?
“What would make you think that?” you ask.
Mrs. Cake sighs.
“Well, like I said, she has to deal with so much. She’s one of the ponies who represents the Elements of Harmony. She’s helped save Ponyville and Equestria at least a dozen times by now, and she’ll probably keep on doing it, and each time, she comes back with a big smile on her face, as though she just went away on a vacation.”
That’s certainly true. Even you sometimes wonder how Twilight and the others are still able to lead relatively normal lives, while they’re the ponies who routinely keep Equestria safe from harm on a semi-regular basis. It must get exhausting after a while, and yet you’d never think so, from the way they act.
“And then there’s all that she does with throwing parties for everypony,” Mrs. Cake goes on. “There’s always something to celebrate in Ponyville at least once a week, so she’s constantly planning for birthday parties, cuteceneras, holidays, and other events. She has a whole system set up to keep track of what everypony likes at the parties she throws, so that they’re just right whenever she throws them.”
“Wow,” you say, impressed. “She’s got quite the organized mind to keep up on everypony’s party preferences.”
“Absolutely,” says Mrs. Cake. “Sometimes she even makes up her own reasons to throw a celebration, when there isn’t a particular one to celebrate. It’s the sweetest thing, seeing her come up with her own holidays, just so she can surprise her friends. She especially loves baking pies for Rainbow Dash.”
“Is that so?” you ask. “Rainbow must really love pies. I know I do, whenever she’s gifted me with one.”
Mrs. Cake nods with a small smile.
“But in any case, with everything that she does for Equestria and Ponyville, she still manages to find time to help out at Sugarcube Corner. Like I said, we can get pretty swamped with catering orders or lines at the counter, but Pinkie always finds a way to chip in and make it easier. She’ll hop up to the counter to deal with orders and chat with the customers while we handle the catering, or watch the foals when we’re too busy to. She is our go-to babysitter, after all.”
“Wow,” you say. “I knew Pinkie was talented, but I never imagined she did so much.”
“I don’t know how she does it all,” says Mrs. Cake. “She’s got so much on her plate, and she still keeps that sweet smile on her face, like it’s nothing, without asking for anything in return.”
Yes. Pinkie’s very modest that way. You once heard her say that ‘a smile’s the perfect pay for a party well done’. All she wants in return for what she does is the knowledge that she’s made ponies happy. It’s a very touching and compassionate sentiment. You’d certainly never seen anything like that back in Manehattan, where the philosophy of ‘what goes around comes around’ usually lent itself to mutual ill feeling and squabbles.
“It’s why I worry, sometimes,” Mrs. Cake continues, “that Carrot and I don’t do enough to show how much we appreciate her for everything she does, not just for us, but for all of Ponyville. We all love her so much. We’ve never really said it to her, of course, since she has got a family of her own, but we do think of Pinkie as our daughter, and of course, Pound and Pumpkin adore her to pieces. I just want to be sure she knows just how loved she is, but I don’t know what would be enough to say so, after all that she’s done. What do you give to a pony who’s given everything and asked for nothing in return?”
You think you feel something in your eye, and a sudden tightness in your throat. Your vision suddenly goes blurry. It’s touching to hear so much heartfelt devotion from someone as full of motherly care and affection as Mrs. Cake. It stirs something in your memory, something you hadn’t recollected in a long time, something from your days before you even lived in Manehattan.
Something...bittersweet.
“I’m gonna be the best human Equestria’s ever seen, Mom! When I come back, I’ll even have my own cutie mark! Just you wait and see!”
“Dear? Are you all right?”
With a sniff, you look down. Through your blurred eyes, you can see Mrs. Cake looking up at you, concerned. She’s also laid her hoof on your arm, the way a mother would to comfort a child. You hurriedly wipe your eyes and clear your throat.
“I’m so sorry,” you say, shakily. “It’s just...hearing you talk about Pinkie like that...really touched my heart. She’s lucky to have ponies like you and Mr. Cake, who have her best interests at heart.”
Mrs. Cake still looks mildly concerned, and keeps her hoof kindly on your arm. She’s clearly been a mother too long not to realize when someone’s trying to cover something up, though she also doesn’t seem to want to press the point, much as she’d like to know.
It’s tough pulling yourself together again after that, but somehow, with a deep breath, and another clearing of the throat, you manage to get your voice back to its natural tone, and though you can still feel where the tears had been on your cheeks, your eyes feel normal again. You have to keep your composure. This isn’t a therapy session for yourself, after all.
“I wouldn’t worry too much about Pinkie, Mrs. Cake,” you say. “I understand the feeling, worrying that what you do might not feel like enough, even if you really mean it. For someone as giving and easy to please as Pinkie, I’m sure that just knowing the ponies she helps are happy is a good reminder of how much she means to everypony.”
Mrs. Cake looks thoughtful at this, the worry ebbing away from her face.
“If you still feel like you want to show her how much you love her,” you continue, “I’m sure something as simple as doing something she really likes would be enough. It could be as simple as making her favorite treat and surprising her with it.”
At these words, Mrs. Cake’s expression lights up, and she smiles brightly.
“Yes,” she says. “Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t think of that. What a fretful filly I’ve been. Here I was, worried that nothing would be good enough to show Pinkie our appreciation, when something simple is just as good. It’s just like it says in ‘A Hearth’s Warming Tail’: it’s not what the gift is that matters, it’s what the gift means.”
Now there’s something you hadn’t heard quoted in a long time, though it’s quite appropriate. You still make it a yearly thing to read that story at Hearth’s Warming Eve.
“Of course,” you say. “And one small thing does go a long way to making a big difference. I mean, I never would’ve thought a few ear scratches and belly rubs would lead to where I am, but here we are.”
“Oh! That’s true!”
Mrs. Cake laughs richly, and you can’t help but join in as well. She has such a jolly laugh, pleasant to listen to, the laugh that makes everything feel ten times funnier than it really is. Once you’ve both laughed to your heart’s content, you look up at the clock. It’s barely half-past by now.
“Speaking of,” you say, “we do still have some time left. Was there anything particular you wanted out of this session?”
Mrs. Cake wipes the tears of laughter from her eyes, and a faint blush colors her blue cheeks.
“Oh, well,” she says, “there is something, but it’s a silly thing, really.”
“Nothing’s too silly for affection therapy,” you say, tapping her nose gently. “What is it?”
Mrs. Cake fiddles with one earring with her hoof, looking down at her hind hooves, before finally speaking up again. It’s surprising to see her act this bashful.
“Well, I did bring these cupcakes along to apologize for being late, but I wouldn’t mind trying some of those cookies you have there. They do look tasty. Maybe with a nice long hug or a tummy rub to go with them.” she adds, in a quieter tone, the blush deepening. “It feels kind of silly, asking at my age, and to someone younger than I am.”
“It’s not silly at all,” you reassure her. “It’s your session, and that can easily be done.”
You both make a shift in your positions, so that Mrs. Cake is sitting with her back against your torso, your arms across her barrel, the plate of cookies beside you. She’s probably the heaviest pony you’ve had resting against you, which you’d previously thought was Applejack, with her combination of muscle and pudge. She’s a very soft, cuddly sort of bulky, though, and her mane smells sweet and sugary. You look down at her, and she smiles up at you.
“Comfy?” you ask.
“Yes, thank you, dear.”
With one arm, you reach for a cookie on the plate, grab a nice big one, and hold it up to her muzzle. She takes a bite out of it, considers it for a second, gives a delighted ‘Mmmm!’ and snaps up the rest from your fingers, licking the crumbs from her lips.
“Scrumptious!” she says. “Is this Pinkie’s recipe?”
“It is indeed,” you say. “Did she make it herself, or did she get it from you?”
“She made a few tweaks to my original recipe,” says Mrs. Cake. “Honestly, I think her take on them is quite a bit better. I’d say the student’s surpassed the teacher there.”
She laughs again. It’s delightful that the slightest thing can inspire her to break out that lovely laugh. She’s such a jolly pony.
With one hand on cookie duty, the other hand gets to work rubbing Mrs. Cake’s belly. Just like Pinkie’s, it feels very doughy and cushy, yet also soft and pillow-like. You can’t help but imagine little Pound and Pumpkin napping against her stomach after a long day, while she cradles them to her, singing a lullaby. It perfectly fits the motherly image she carries with her.
“How does that feel?” you ask her, after a time.
“Mmm...very soothing,” she murmurs.
You can feel her nestling against you, settling in from the feeling of the rub. It’s remarkable how even a pony her age can be reduced to a foal-like state of contentment from such a simple gesture.
“Sometimes, when Pinkie’s feeling really sick, I rub her tummy while she’s lying in bed, and it’s always helped her feel better. She offered to do the same for me when I got sick, but I told her she didn’t need to. Now I see how it feels.”
“Belly rubs are very popular with affection therapy clients,” you say. “Maybe even more so than ear scratches.”
Mrs. Cake giggles, just before she takes a bite out of another cookie.
“It’s easy to see why,” she says, after swallowing. “It’s very relaxing, especially for a pony as big as I am.”
“You’re not that big, Mrs. Cake,” you assure her, and it’s true. You’d seen ponies bigger than her, even if only once or twice.
“Oh, you’re sweet,” says Mrs. Cake, kindly, patting your wrist, “but I know I’m not the skinniest of ponies. Getting tired out just getting here is proof enough. Plus, it’s getting a little harder for me to go everywhere that Pound and Pumpkin want me to play with them. A few days ago, we all went to the park, where there was a playhouse for foals. They wanted me to join them inside, but I could only get halfway through the door. I just had to sit there, half in and half out, playing with them, all the while worried that I was going to stay stuck.”
“Oh dear,” you say.
You have a brief mental image of Mrs. Cake’s bottom half sticking out of a playhouse door, while her top half is inside, having a tea party with her foals. Something about it makes you think of bears and rabbits, for some reason.
“Carrot and Pinkie managed to pull me out by the end, though,” says Mrs. Cake, “and we all had a good laugh about it.”
“That’s good,” you say. “I’ve known quite a few mares back in Manehattan who weren’t comfortable with being the size that they are, even if they didn’t look that big to begin with. They’d never shut up about these crazy diets that they intended to go on. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be fit, of course, but ponies should be able to feel happy with who they are, and not feel like they need to change.”
“Exactly what I think, dear,” says Mrs. Cake, nodding. “Pleasantly plump, and proud to be. That’s what I always say.”
You smile at this, and continue to rub Mrs. Cake’s belly, while she settles in more comfortably. You offer another cookie to her, and she nibbles it down more slowly than before. Perhaps she’s getting full. She seems more content to just sit against you, enjoying the soothing sensation.
After a time, you pick up another cookie, but as you hold it to her muzzle, she shakes her head sleepily.
“I think that’s enough cookies, honey,” she says. “They’re very tasty, but I’m already getting full.”
“No trouble at all,” you say, giving her stomach a pat. “Do you want me to keep rubbing, or did you say you wanted a hug, too?”
“Mm, yes, that sounds lovely,” she says, sounding drowsy. “I wouldn’t mind a hug.”
She twists herself around so that her belly is resting against you, and she puts her forelegs around you, resting her chin on your shoulder and her cheeks against yours. You reciprocate in kind, putting your arms about her and holding her close. You feel and hear her sigh in deep contentment as she settles in. It’s a very warm, cozy feeling, the two of you sitting there, nestled up against each other.
It also feels...familiar.
“I’ll come back, Mom, I promise! I’ll tell you all about Equestria, and then we can all live there together!”
Your throat feels tight again, and your eyes are starting to sting, but you fight hard to keep it together. This is Mrs. Cake’s session, after all. You can’t bog it down with your own reminiscenses. You tighten your hug around her a little bit, almost without thinking, and you feel her return the pressure, giving you a gentle nuzzle on the cheek. Does she know?...
The clock is soon chiming the five-minute warning. Mrs. Cake releases her hold around you, and you do as well. She pulls away to smile up at you.
“Thank you, dearie,” she says. “Not just for the therapy session, but for the talk. I know just what to do for Pinkie now, and I only wish I’d realized it sooner.”
“It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. Cake,” you say, smiling back. “That’s what affection therapy’s all about: providing for everypony’s needs in their time of need.”
Mrs. Cake’s smile fades a little, and she looks a bit more serious.
“Are you doing the same for your needs as well?” she asks.
You feel as though something drops into the pit of your stomach. Her dark-pink eyes seem to be boring into your own, as though she’s trying to ride your mind.
“I can tell something’s bothering you, dear,” she continues. “I saw it earlier, when we were talking about Pinkie, and I could feel it during that hug. Call it a mother’s intuition.”
It looks like you really were that obvious. You can’t think of anything to say.
“I won’t pry, of course,” says Mrs. Cake, “but I do think you should talk to somepony about it. It’s not healthy to keep sad feelings bottled up. Even therapists need somepony to confide in, after all.”
Again, you can think of nothing to say. However, Mrs. Cake doesn’t seem bothered by this, as, with a gentle smile, she gives you another squeeze of a hug, then pats you on the cheek with her hoof.
“Just give it some thought,” she says. “All right?”
After a pause, you nod.
“I will,” you say.
“Good,” says Mrs. Cake. “Thanks again, dearie. See you soon.”
You manage to smile again.
“You too, Mrs. Cake.”
She hops off the couch, walks to the door, and opens it up, just as a lanky yellow Earth pony stallion with an orange mane and a square jaw appears outside. It’s Mr. Cake.
“Oh!” says Mrs. Cake, pleasantly surprised. “All done, sweetheart?”
“Just finished, sugarplum,” he said. “You too?”
“Mm-hmm. I’ve got a good idea of what we can do for Pinkie, thanks to our friend here.”
Mr. Cake peers inside the room, sees you, and gives you a friendly smile. You wave in return, smiling back. Husband and wife take their leave together, closing the door behind them.
You sit there, feeling dazed. Mrs. Cake’s words are still ringing in your head.
“I can tell something’s bothering you, dear…”
“You should talk to somepony about it…”
“It’s not healthy to keep sad feelings bottled up…”
“Even therapists need somepony to confide in, after all…”
You know she’s right, but you’re not sure what you can do. Who can you talk to? You’d never told anypony about your past, beyond a few details about living in Manehattan. You hadn’t even told Rose, and you feel a guilty squirm in your stomach at the thought. What are you supposed to say, though, and who can you say it to?
How do you describe the events that led you to Equestria in the first place, and how they brought you to Ponyville?...
You give your head a shake, trying to clear it. You make a mental promise to tell somepony about all of this, to get it off your chest, but it has to be the right pony, and at the right time, and right now, you have no idea who or when. For now, though, you need to concentrate on your final affection therapy patient for the day, and as you make everything look nice and neat again, with both cookies and cupcakes sitting front and center, you wonder if this last client will give you as much food for thought as Mrs. Cake just did.