Once again it began to get late when Applejack left, while Rarity found herself drawn to the window. This time she wasn’t as worried about the blue pegasus, but she still found herself peering first at their familiar windows. The curtains remained shut and she saw nothing to be alarmed about.
Rarity had decided that Applejack was probably right, she was probably just sick and in bed. She wondered if the fear was all in her mind. Still she found herself gazing to the window every few minutes as none of her favorite subjects were home yet.
First she watched as ‘Hemingway’ walked through his door. He looked upset as if he’d screwed up somehow. He reached in his bag and took out what must’ve been a final version of his story. He sat down and read through it a couple times as he shook his head disapprovingly. He then flung the story into his wastebasket and turned away as he reached for a bottle of hard liquor. He spent the next hour alone and drinking at his desk. After what felt like a really long time, Rarity watched him get up and put on his coat before leaving. She assumed he was going to a bar.
‘Poor Hemingway, you must’ve worked on that story for so long, I was hoping I’d get to read it some day. You won’t find happiness at the end of the bottle, but I hope its helps you out tonight.'
Rarity felt pain shoot through her spine once again and downed another couple pills of her pain medication. Except this time the medication didn’t help as much as it had been and just a little while later she took another dose of the medication. After that she felt much better and as the pain disappeared she watched the window again.
The next couple hours remained fairly uneventful, Rarity watched several ponies as they either fixed dinner, or read a book, or talked to friends. Rarity herself took comfort in her wine; she downed a few until she found herself having a good time.
Suddenly Rarity noticed the grey violist come home; she shot up in her chair and directed her full attention to her one of her favorites. Rarity assumed that if she had gone to a concert it must’ve been held in Canterlot, seeing as she didn’t come home last night. She watched as the grey mare set her violin case aside and lay on her bed for several minutes. She too seemed upset.
‘Tough crowd?’ Rarity wondered. The grey mare’s only response was to quietly cry into her pillow. After a few minutes Rarity noticed as she grabbed the photo frame from earlier and stared into it for several minutes.
Later in the evening Rarity watched as Cherilee came walking though her front door with a friend. He was light blue earth pony who Cherilee must’ve stayed out late with. She watched as he stumbled over to pour a drink for them. He reached the couch with only incredible difficulty keeping his balance, and offered the mare a drink. She politely rejected and the two spent the next hour just talking to each other. Something told Rarity that Cherilee hadn’t had anything to drink, while the stallion was clumsy to say the least.
Rarity figured out that Cherilee must’ve gone out on a lousy date, and this stallion was just trying to get her to drink, which he failed at miserably. She probably didn’t even want to bring him home, because it was clear she just wanted him to leave. A few minutes later and the stallion began to get a little handsy, or maybe hoofsy, and Cherilee took no part in it, she pushed him out of her house and closed the door on him. She then slid her back down the frame of the door and sat on the floor while she cried.
‘Poor Cherilee, you’ll find someone. You’re way too special not to.’
The rest of the night remained uneventful, and although she continued to watch the house for any sign of either the yellow stallion or his wife, she saw nothing and assumed that her imagination, or perhaps the wine, must’ve been playing tricks with her. She popped another pill and made her way over to the bed as she lay down to finally sleep. Still she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was wrong.