It was a new season, a time for all things warm and green. Two days ago, Ponyville had wrapped up Winter, and, as was Tradition, Carousel Boutique had closed for a spring cleaning. It was the day when Rarity cleared out the old cobwebs and dust, and yet here she sat, staring mournfully into the broom closet. The dustpan remained on its hook, the mop was still dry, and odd clutter still covered the surfaces and nooks of the building. Little trinkets and piles of what some would call garbage, bittersweet reminders of what had been, of the delightful organized chaos her life had been until nearly a month ago.
There was an extra towel on the rack in the bathroom. It hung just as it had the last time it was used, and still smelled of sweat and flour and laughter, of countless naval battles recreated with fearsome ducks and such in a stormy sea of bubbles. Rarity’s favorite finetooth comb, perfect for styling manes, still had several strands of unruly pink hair tangled through its ebony tines. Countless reminders that came as recipes or deflated balloons or even the occasional eyepatch surfaced and resurfaced and eventually stayed, with such paltry excuses as “inspiration” or “ambience” to justify their continued existence in her life.
Sometimes it felt like not a day would pass when she would be reminded painfully, surely, about the joyful, wonderful thing she had lost to her own vain foolishness. Things with Pinkie had been fantastic, but she could never make enough time towards the end, enough time to nurture and support and understand the beautiful, enigmatic, complex, and delicate mare she’d fallen for. And though Pinkie was lenient, understanding, they were growing apart. Rarity could no longer follow every abrupt turn of thought their conversations would take, could no longer talk to Pinkie about everything that was confusing or painful, could no longer tell in the first instant that Pinkie was feeling lonely or neglected or hurt.
Pinkie supported her, gave her so much love, so much more than she deserved. And Rarity did what she could to save it, did her best to contribute equally to their relationship. But there was only so much that parties and picnics and promises could mend, especially when the promises in question fell apart at the seams no matter how many times she remade them, redrafted them. And so, in the end, Rarity let her go. Told her to leave. Told her the truth for once, that Rarity herself wasn’t mature enough in things like this to give what it would take. And every morning since, she cursed her own name and went about her day and fell asleep exhausted and miserable in a bed that now seemed three times too large.
Pinkie and Rarity still saw each other, of course. With friends like theirs, there could be no hard feelings, just private regrets. And were they not the best of friends? Rarity snorted. The sentiment was just as shallow now as it was when she cajoled a young, eager librarian for access to her dreams and desires, to a night of being a Lady, becoming a Princess. Finding true love. But the problem was that they could be friends again, they had to be. As soon as Rarity could clear this stupid hurdle in her stupid little head, she would make everything alright again. Hiding like this was a disservice to the wonderful mare she knew and still loved, to the powerful bonds they still had, they would always had. Rarity laughed at herself. Here, on this day, frozen at the mere sight of a broom, here she sat, a silly and stupid and, dare she say... frivolous mare sitting in an old pile of memories.
Because today was a day of change, a new season, a time of new life and the rebirth of the old. A time to dust out the old cobwebs. So she got up, and put the towel in the hamper. Cleaned the hairs from the comb, picked up a hundred little balloons and streamers and knicknacks and doo-dads and packed them away neatly in a cardboard box. She found an old satin ribbon, one in Pinkie’s favorite color of blue, and tied it round the top, just because she could. And she mopped the floors and dusted the ceiling and finally tightened the bolt on the pipes in the kitchen that dripped late at night when she found herself doing dishes.
And finally, when nothing else could be done, when the entire Boutique sparkled and glowed with a new freshness, she lay down on her faithful sofa and cried, finally letting the tears that had formed a month ago see the light of day. Cleaned out the old cobwebs from dark corners.
And as she dried her eyes and redid her makeup, she felt a little smile inch onto her face. It wasn’t big or strong, but it was real. After dating a certified smile expert for nearly four months, she would know. And she grabbed the box of Pinkie’s things and trotted out the door with that fragile, precious smile still on her face. After all, it was a beautiful, sunny day in Ponyville, and she had a space in her stomach exactly the size of a cupcake.