Dearest Vinyl,
Today is my first day at the Manehatten University for Music. I still cannot understand why you refuse to attend as well, just because they do not offer a 'wub' music (if you can call it that) class. They do offer a course for singing, you know. (Don't lie, I know the real story behind your cutie mark.) Nonetheless, I can only hope that you are having a wonderful time attempting to become a famous disk jockey. I'll be sure to buy your first record, as I promised.
Life in the city is rough, as I imagined it. I can't get a flat without having to argue with at least five different ponies, the prices of things here are unbelievable and practically everyone is just plain rude. (No, they are not snooty. And neither am I. That joke's getting old, you know.) My classes are nice, what I've gone to anyway. I'm taking a time on my break to write this to you, and I can just imagine your reaction when you see this in the mail.
'A letter, Octy? Seriously? You couldn't call?'
I don't own a phone at the moment, so this is my only option. Besides, you can save the memories that are letters, but definitely not phone calls. We'll forget those words in a few years, but if we save the ones on paper, we can reminiscence one day. (You probably thought that sounded completely corny, didn't you?) Aside from all of that, I wish you nothing but good fortune and perhaps the same for myself as well. The school's offering dorms, but they cost one hundred bits a month. I seriously don't have that kind of money and neither do you. (Trust me, I know you well enough. You've probably already spent half of your paycheck on vodka and records, haven't you?) A flat is all I'm going to have to settle for.
Until then, send letters back to me at the address of the school. I've got my own mailbox here until I earn an actual residence.
I love you and I miss you.
Yours truly, Octavia.
The grey mare stared at the letter in her hooves and dropped the pencil from her mouth. Would it be enough? Did she get to her point too much? Should she have written more?
...
She let out a sigh and carefully folded the paper, sliding it into an envelope and sealing it with tape, only before scrawling Vinyl's residence on the front, underneath the return address. A stamp was stuck in the upper right corner and she slid the letter into the mailbox she sat next to, just as the bell for her next class went off.
...
She could only hope that everything she said was enough to get Vinyl to reply.
Dearest Vinyl,
It's been two weeks since my first letter and you haven't replied. I guess I can expect that. Either it's lost in the mail or you haven't found the time to write back. I can understand. I'm quite busy as well; what with rehearsal for the upcoming school performance. (I do hope you'll attend. It would mean a lot to me.) This school seems to be finding all of the talented mares and stallions representatives. I can only hope I'm noticed.
Send me a mixtape of your next performance, by the way. You might tease me for this later, but I miss your ear-bashing 'music', so to speak. I actually haven't had much time to do anything, sadly. Not even explore this city that never seems to sleep. (You'd love it, I bet.)
I sometimes wonder, after I send these letters, if I've said the right things to you. I miss hearing your voice, is all. I did try to call, with the payphone they have in the lobby of the school, but you wouldn't pick up. I hope you'll find the time to call back.
Not much else to say.
I love you and I miss you.
Yours truly, Octavia.
The cellist let out a sigh and stuffed the second letter into an already addressed and stamped envelope, approaching the mailbox across the way from where she sat. And as she slipped the letter in the slot, a small smile spread across her expression. Maybe in the next letter, she'd have something a bit better to report with.
Dearest Vinyl,
Three weeks since I sent my second letter and nothing from you. I presume that you're quite busy, what with having two jobs to support yourself and all. One at night, spinning records at clubs, and one during the day, running our radio station. I wish I was still there with you. We had some wonderful times there, didn't we? (And yes, I still think you're crazy.) I honestly haven't had anytime to do anything enjoyable, to be honest. Nothing. It's all practice for the upcoming school concert in two days. Apparently, twenty talent scouts will be in the crowd. This very well might be my chance to make it in the music business! I'm shaking just thinking about it.
Well. I have to practice. I hope you reply soon, and if you can't make it to the concert, I fully understand. By the way, I finally got my own flat. I'll be moving in the day after the concert and I promise to call you then. I miss hearing your voice.
I love you and I miss you.
Yours truly, Octavia.
Smiling weakly, the grey mare slid the letter into the mailbox and trotted off to her class, ready for practicing in the grand concert that would change her future... hopefully.
Dearest Vinyl,
Well, unfortunately, no talent scouts noticed my playing. I wasn't approached. I suppose they'll be other chances. I've got a place to live now, so that's the good thing then. I tried to call you yesterday, but all I seemed to get was a busy signal. I hope you can call back soon.
And no, you're not dreaming. My letters really are getting shorter. I apologize. Life's been rough for me, although I'm managing. I always take time to sit back and think, at least once, when I can. And also, I've heard that KCOLT was taken off the air, three weeks ago. What happened? What did you say this time? I'm not even sure if I want to know. Shame I couldn't hear your last broadcast though.
I'll finish packing, call you once more and then we'll finally reunite. As best as we can, anyway.
I love you and I miss you.
Yours truly, Octavia.
The grey mare opened her front door to retreat outside to go out to mail her latest letter, however right outside was the mailpony, with two letters between his teeth.
"Are you Octavia Philharmonica?" he said, his voice obviously muffled.
Nodding, she was given her mail and gave hers in return, closing the door and upon reading the return address of the first envelope, her expression instantly brightened like a foal on the morning of Hearth's Warming Eve. It was from Vinyl!
Tearing open the letter ecstatically, hoping for something wonderful to read, what Octavia found broke her heart.
Octavia,
Stop sending me letters.
-Vinyl
...
Nothing else. That was it.
Swallowing the small lump in her throat, Octavia's thoughts raced as she opened the second letter, not even bothering to read the return address.
Dear Ms. Philharmonica,
Given that you are the closest pony to Ms. Vinyl Scratch, it is our duty to inform to you that said mare was checked into Canterlot Hospital a little over a month ago. She was diagnosed with some type of disease. Unfortunately, we were unable to identify her condition before it destroyed her. Her time of death has been unknown to us yet, however, the date was precisely on March 12th. So sorry for you to learn such news.
Sincerely,
Canterlot Hospital
...
The only feeling Octavia knew now was complete and utter depression. Tears filled her eyes and she dropped the paper, feeling extremely faint. Vinyl was gone. That explained everything. Why she never wrote back. Why she didn't come to the concert. Why she didn't call.
...
And Octavia never even got to say goodbye.