//------------------------------//
// Deviation 
// Story: Daily 
// by LimeAttack 
//------------------------------//

Wake up. Eat breakfast. Trot to work. Eat a sunflower sandwich for lunch. Trot home. Take a shower. Sleep. Routine.

This morning at seven-thirty, just like any other, my alarm blares the same tone it blared the day I bought it five years ago. By memory I reach my hoof out to shut the alarm off as I unceremoniously roll out of bed. I stopped looking out my window a long time ago, but I still know that a gloriously crimson sunrise paints a fire on the horizon most days. I simply no longer have the time to fancy a peek. All around, beige walls line a simple bedroom with a simple nightstand sitting next to a simple bed, with a simple bureau in the corner. I open the top of three drawers and extract a small index card—one of the few things that changes every day. I notice that yesterday I had twice as many sunflower petals on my sandwich, and update my little inventory sheet accordingly. Some ponies find it odd that I meticulously keep track of everything in my house, but I always feel justified when I find something shortly after noticing that I cannot remember where it is, rather than spending up to an hour or more searching.

After filing the index card away, I pull out a fresh one and scrawl down my breakfast for the day, along with what I plan to prepare for lunch: one tomato, fifteen grapes, two carrots, and a lump of sugar for breakfast, along with exactly 23 sunflower petals, 2 slices of bread, and an apple for lunch. Any pony that I tell about this routine finds the number of petals rather odd, but I found after counting out a bag that it takes one five-day work week of sandwiches to nearly deplete the bag, with enough to take as a snack when I go to the market every Saturday. It also turns out that one loaf of bread lasts two weeks and one sack of grapes also lasts one week, with any remainders becoming a splurge for Sunday. I grow the tomatoes as a hobby and pick up the apple from the local stand every morning. That farmer, Applejack, always has her stand up in the same place every morning. She’s reliable, so I can count on being able to have one apple every day at lunch.

From the middle drawer I extract one of many black ties. Quills and Sofas never asked me to put on a tie for work, but I feel as if an accountant and cashier should look reasonable when selling quills, which go far more quickly than the sofas. Sometimes I wonder if the owner keeps books like I do. I imagine that the shop would never run out of quills with some meticulous inventory work.

Making sure my curtains are correctly drawn over the window, I step into the bathroom and glance over myself with a mirror to make sure that no strange things happened to my hair while sleeping. Carefully combing a dark brown mane around a jutting, muted gray horn, I think ahead to Sunday. After all, today is Friday. More likely than not, I will buy a little bit of flour on Saturday and make some bread. In terms of cooking, I can barely make myself a sandwich. However, I’ve been able to make my old mother’s bread from scratch since before I could even remember.

With my hair managed and my tie securely around my neck, I wander into the kitchen. Glancing around, I take in the small room. A table with one chair and an ice box being the only adornments aside from the traditional oven and cabinets, I decide that I may buy a small ornamental sculpture for the table. Feeling a bit adventurous by this point, I decide to pour a glass of orange juice for myself instead of water. The juice is rather expensive in Ponyville due to the near-monopoly of apples in the area, but today feels like a day for a small amount of excess. One of my little sisters recently received a letter of acceptance from the prestigious Manehattan Art Institute, so it seems only fair to pay a toast to a Friday and the start of something excellent for family.

Having scribbled in the cup of juice on today’s index card, I carefully secure my briefcase along with my lunch and make my way outside. Today the weather ponies decided to leave a few clouds here and there, so naturally I stepped out into the shade at first. After realizing with relief that the cloud just lazily drifted over the sun, I trotted out into the quickly brightening morning. The other houses on this street had various types of gardens, ranging from a simple flower garden to works of landscaping art. Looking back at my own lawn, filled with plain green grass with a plot of tomatoes off to the side, I breathe a sigh of relief that I don’t need to tend to the garden for hours on end like these ponies must. As I work my way out toward my workplace, I notice a lavender unicorn taking a shipment of books for the library. She seems very much so out of place, not only because of the fact that she is a unicorn, but also because this marks the first time that I have ever seen her. After living in a town for long enough, you eventually see every pony that lives there at least once. If I remember later on in the day, I plan to take a small detour to the library to properly welcome her to town. I vaguely recall noticing a similar unicorn a few times in the news for various reasons, but until now I hardly entertained the thought that she lived here. I should probably curb this rapidly growing habit of deviation. Things are running smoothly as they are; I don’t need to try and “spice things up,” like others seem to think.

For a Friday morning, the market seems a bit more crowded than usual as I habitually follow the cobbled street right to where Applejack’s stand sits every day. I smile at a few familiar faces in some of the various little setups, like Set Quartz. He’s quite the proficient watch and clock maker. More than a few times I’ve used one of my Sundays in order to see if he can repair one of my clocks, but at some point in the last year I bought three of his and they still tick away without a single incident to date. By the time I’m done wondering if I should get some kale for Sunday I look up to see Applejack just a few paces away.

“Keepin’ the doctor visits low as always, eh Teddy?” Something about that smile just creases her face in exactly the right way to make me trust in her selling apples every day. It’s the strangest thing to notice in a pony, yet I can’t help but notice those marks that good work leaves behind—dependability and a common daily thread to keep up the patterns.

One bit for one apple. The actual price never shifts from one for two, but I find it far easier to pay extra for an apple than to somehow split a bit in half. “I’ve been going strong for years now. Not really any sense in stopping.” The sound of my own voice never ceases to sound just a little strange. Then again, I hardly give myself time to acclimate to it. I only ever speak as much as I need to.

Before I manage to get any amount of distance away from the apple stand, Applejack surprises me. “Y’know, Big Mac told me yesterday that you’ve had over a thousand apples from us. When I heard that I couldn’t even wrap my mind around that. One a day except weekends sure don’t seem like much, but I guess it all adds up. Not that I care for all of that fancy mathematics; Mac takes care of that.”

I can hear my voice shaking. “That’s, uh, that’s very interesting. It sure doesn’t feel like it’s been that long.” A thousand days! Hundreds of weeks of doing practically the same thing over and over again. A part of me finds that something impressive, something to be proud of. Even so, another part of me cringes at the thought. Managing to shake the idea out of my head, I hurriedly trot away and toward work.

“Tedious Care, my favorite and only accountant! Today’s a great day, don’t you think? I just find days like this to be beacons for the whole month.” Even his eyes smile at me.

I roll my shoulders a bit and look around, anxious as to how I managed to work my way to the shop without once even noticing where I was or where I was going. “Well, it seems just like most other Fridays. Also, sir, please just call me Teddy. Using my full name makes me sound too important.”

He reaches up and plops a hoof down on my shoulder before looking at his store. “Y’know, Tedious, today you are important. You’re the first pony that I’ve ever given a hundred paychecks to! That’s something, all right. One every two weeks and today is your hundredth.”

Hopefully he won’t notice the weakness slowly building in my legs. That’s another landmark, and I didn’t even start at Quills and Sofas until my best friend moved to Fillydelphia, which was... four years back, apparently. They say time flies when you’re having fun, but apparently it flies even faster when you don’t have to keep track of it outside of a biweekly routine. “That’s definitely something, sir. I should probably get started with work, then. After all, I have to earn those paychecks.”

The scoff is loud enough to make me wince a little. “Nonsense! I think I’m going to give you a paid day off today. You’ve worked hard for so long that I think you’ve more than earned it. In fact, how about you come visit at my place and have lunch with my wife and myself later on? Somepony’s gotta give you credit for what you do.” No, that certainly won’t do at all.

“I would much rather just work like usual, sir. There might be a pony willing to buy a sofa today. I think we should celebrate my tenth sofa sale instead.” That should deter him.

I try to walk into the store, but the owner holds me back. “Uh, Teddy, you’ve sold fifteen.”

“Oh.” That didn’t work at all. I have to come up with something, and I definitely need to stay calm. “Well then... how about the fiftieth? There! Now that’s a landmark.”

He sighs heavily and takes his hoof away before turning around. “I suppose that I can’t stop you from working. I don’t think I’ve met more than three ponies that would rather work than take a day off. Well, you have a good time, Teddy. Lock up when you leave and I’ll see you again on Monday, I suppose.” Thank goodness. I hadn’t realized until now that I had been holding my breath. I smile softly and walk into the one place where it’s expected to follow a routine.

Sliding into the most comfortable position that I can manage in the cashier’s seat, I pop open my briefcase and take a long look at the piece of paper sitting on the top. The first drawing that I did here in this shop during the downtime of the day looks back up at me. I compare the drawing of the shop back then to the shop as it stands now and find very little in the way of differences. The quill and sofa displays still have hoof-painted price signs and the curtains still carry that same faded blue as they did then. The walls, eggshell white as always, look nearly the same, save for the fact that one wall once had a few chips in the paint that have since been covered over with a fresh layer. The register marks one of the only things drastically changed, as this newer and smoother model replaced the old one after the cash drawer got stuck open.

Taking a fresh sheet of paper out of my briefcase, sharpening my pencil, and fishing out one of the photographs I took last Sunday, I set to work. The current project, the clock tower, always seemed a bit plain for a building. Now that I can get a solid look at it, though, I discover some rather intricate scrollwork around the face of the clock, almost as if it had a wig of wavy, curly hair. Although this hobby of drawing buildings takes long amounts of time and each building takes different amounts of time to complete, I feel as if it still fits perfectly into a routine. After all, I still draw every time I go to work. I still store my pencils, pictures, drawings, and photos in the same spaces in my briefcase. Most importantly, I still have at least one customer ask about what it is that I do.

“Oh... am I interrupting something? You seem to be rather engrossed in what you’re doing. What is it, anyway?” The voice struck me as a little too refined, a little too mannerly, a little too soft for the regular customers.

With practice and without looking up, I answered. “I like to draw buildings in my spare time here at the shop. Not very many ponies come by here, after all. Quills and sofas just aren’t the things that you need to replace often.” It’s true, of course. Ponyville isn’t quite large enough to need many quills, and sofas only wear down so fast. It’s rather strange that we still manage to run out of quills, though.

Her voice was a little breathy as she continued. “Buildings? That’s rather interesting. I’ve read a few books about artists that can recreate a landscape after seeing it once, but I imagine that they don’t keep it as a hobby.” As I looked up, she took a pause and went on. “Anyway, I find that I run out of quills quite often. I seem to break them from time to time. Do you happen to have heavy-duty quills?” Rather glad that my salespony self kept me from doing a minor double take, I found that the lavender unicorn from earlier stood right there in front of me. Coincidence does not play well with routine.

“I believe so.” The best laid plans... “They should be on the upper shelf of the display case.” Her eyes followed my hoof over to the quills and she examined five different boxes of quills at once with her magic. I couldn’t help but comment on it. “That’s some impressive control of magic. I can’t manipulate more than two objects at once with any kind of finesse like that.”

If she blushed, I couldn’t see it. Most ponies I know would have. “Oh, it’s nothing too special. I know a few ponies that can, and I bet loads out there know how. Not to mention that my talent is magic; things like this are expected.” I still can’t stop being awestruck, and it doesn’t help when four of the boxes slide perfectly back into their places while she walks back toward the register.

Now’s the proper time to introduce myself. I wouldn’t want to make a visit to the library later strange, if she works there. “Well, I’m Teddy. I noticed you taking a shipment of books for the library a while back. Do you work there, or...?” I trail off, not sure what else she would do for the library if she doesn’t work there.

She brings a hoof to her chin in a rather endearing manner. “I suppose that I work there. I live there and maintain it, so I assume that means working there. Not that I consider it work, though. I enjoy libraries quite a bit. But yes, I’m Twilight Sparkle. It’s nice to meet you, Teddy.” She floats a few bits onto the counter, and I deftly sweep them up and into the register.

I catch a glimpse of the clock out of my eye as I turn back to her. About lunchtime. “The same to you, Ms. Sparkle. I think I may pick up a book today.” I leave unsaid the fact that I once read avidly, before my friend moved away. Monthly visits to Fillydelphia don’t do much to make me miss her less. Ponies like her are rare indeed, though today I may count that I’ve met two.

Twilight’s small smile leaves me feeling better about this particular Friday. “I look forward to it!” As she exits, I decide to take up the owner on his offer of a visit, if not the lunch. After all, I have my own to eat. I slip into the back room of the store, taking a glance at all of the various boxes of paperwork and looking over the books on the small office table sitting in the corner. After a few minutes of sifting through envelopes once I found the box of mail, I discover exactly what I want: a letter, addressed to the shop, with a carbon copy to another address that must be his home. I slide out of the shop with my things, locking up the shop and flipping the sign over to “closed.”

My heart begins to race as I trace a path through town to the owner’s house. Every part of me screams that I should go back to the store and just finish working the day out. Every part of me screams for a return to the routine, but today threw everything different at me that it could. This Friday can no longer be routine.





The benevolent owner of Quills and Sofas opens his door with more than a little shock in his eyes. “Hello, sir. I decided to take you up on your offer after all, but I’ll be having my own lunch, if you don’t mind.”

He steps aside with a smile, eyes glinting and knowing. “Not at all, my boy! I’m just glad you finally did something different for a change. Come on in.”

I take a deep breath and plunge into a true deviation.

The entire visit flows by faster than a blur. I get to witness the owner’s various collections of things from model trains to snowglobes, all arranged properly in display cases or put on show in an open set up. I learn his name after working for him for years—Proper Show. I even discover that he has a son of his own heading off to the Manehattan Art Institute as well over the lunch table. By that point, things begin to wind down.

“You know, Teddy, I’m very glad that you made it out here today. For the longest time I wondered if you would ever snap out of that haze you always just drifted around in. I don’t imagine anything was wrong, I just hadn’t ever seen a pony so dedicated to doing the same thing every day, living the same dream from sunrise to sunset.” He still wears that same grin from when he answered the door, just a bit less pronounced.

I suppose at this point that revealing my plans would be the best. After all, Mr. Show deserves to know first. “Well, I hate to be so sudden, but I realized today that something’s been sitting in front of my face for the longest time and I never noticed it until now. I’m going to move out to Fillydelphia, probably with the eight o’clock train tonight.”

He nods slowly, eyes closed. “I can’t say that I can find another pony quite as dedicated, but I’m happy to hear that you’re getting out of your routines. There’s nothing particularly wrong with them, but there’s a reason that flowing water is harder to freeze.” Sometimes, it strikes me as odd just how quickly ponies can pull some adage or another from the depths of their mind. Even so, they offer excellent analogies to real situations.





As I pace out the door, Mr. Show bids me a hearty farewell and I return the favor. I imagine that two hours have passed since I arrived, putting the time at just before three. I enter the market street once again on my path to the library. Suddenly, I catch eye of the apple stand, and a burst of spontaneity fills my legs as the mechanized, routine part of my mind slowly stops forcing itself on me.

I have to catch my breath once I make it there, and Applejack stares, wide-eyed. “Well, it sure is a surprise to see you here again today, Teddy. Somethin’ going on?” She looks around slowly. “Well, what can I do ya for?”

I pull a bit out and set it on the stand. “Two, uh... two Granny Smith, please.” I can only imagine the look on my face, with a smile stretching out over and over every time I try to compose myself.

It must be really obvious, as she takes on the same grin that Mr. Show did just a while back. “Somethin’ special going on for you tonight, Teddy?”

If I had been drinking water at that point, I know that I would have spit it out. “Wow, Applejack, not quite anything like that. More like paying a visit to a friend. I had a revelation earlier today, so I’m going to move to Fillydelphia.” I spurt out everything in hardly any time at all, so much that I imagine I sound like a Manehattanite with how fast the words spew out of my mouth.

Applejack does a double take. “Well, that’s great, Teddy! I’ll definitely miss having you as a customer every day. You be sure to come by the stand if you ever pay a visit to Ponyville, though. A thousand apples ain’t nothing to shake a hoof at.”

I nod quickly before bursting off toward the library. I don’t take any time to stop and look around like usual, instead opting to rush toward the next point without caring about the line in-between. There’s so much that I can do today and so little time that I need to use to do it. So, rather than doing a dozen different things, I decide to truly break my habit and read a book.

My hoof vibrates when I knock on the door, and I find myself catching my breath yet again. I can be positive it won’t be the last time today. Twilight opens the door and offers up a smile. “Oh, hello, Teddy. I’m glad you decided to stop by.” She pulls back in order to let me in.

As I softly step into the vault of knowledge that is a library, I begin to just speak, a surprise to even myself. “Well, I figured that I should at least read one book before I go.”

“Go?” The tone feels far more curious than saddened, although I get the feeling that she doesn’t often find people quite so interested in reading as she.

My eyes wander around the room as I somewhat wistfully respond. “Yeah, go. Earlier today, you reminded me of somepony that I know. I guess it just triggered something in my head, so I’m just going to move. Reading a book is the last thing I really need to do. Every routine has to have an end.” My mind hardly even processed my own words, though I pause when I say the last sentence. “Yeah... an end...” As I trail off, I hear Twilight walking to another corner of the room.

“Well, I hope you find what you’re looking for. Both on the shelves and wherever you’re moving.”

After a good few minutes of pondering, I find myself looking at a shelf of books with Twilight reading quietly in one of the chairs scattered about the room. Without questioning the lapses in my attention, I look up to the books and find myself unable to find a particular piece that I would like to read. The broad, mahogany shelves almost seem as if they should be sagging under the weight of all the books piled into them.

However, with just two or three minutes of searching, my eyes rest on a relatively thin, blue-bound book. With a growing warmth of familiarity in my chest, I ease it off the shelf and slide a bookmark in its place. Sidling into a chair with a very new-looking copy of Equestria Lost, I unravel the meticulously wound strands of my mind and reassemble them into a structure more fitting to the pony that I know I am, or at least was at some point.

The minute hand of the clock manages four full revolutions before I finally look up from the last page of the book, feeling like an entirely different pony. I jump nearly out of my seat when I hear Twilight only a length away. “Millton is fascinating, isn’t he?” I can only nod in response. “The last trains of the day start leaving in about an hour, if you plan on going tonight.”

I slip the book back into its place on the shelf. “Oh... thanks. For the time update and for letting me loiter around for four hours reading.”

She chuckles, and I suddenly want to be in Fillydelphia at least three times more. “Don’t worry, it’s a good change of pace. Most people just check out a book, but I suppose that was out of the question for you.” She opened the door to let me out, pausing for just a moment. “I think that I’ll end up writing a letter tonight.”

For a second, I stop in my tracks. “Writing a letter?”

Blinking a few times, she shakes her head a little. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a project of mine.”

Stepping outside, I gaze off toward the horizon and the sunset, taking in a deep breath of change. “I’ll make sure to stop by if I visit.”

“Everypony is welcome at the library, Teddy.”

Somehow, that simple statement with its immensely obvious nature makes me realize just how much the mannerisms of Ponyville latched on to me. It makes me realize that I may be in for a huge change once I leave. Despite that, I still can’t wait to go. I set off for my house for the last time.







A two hour train ride leaves me in Fillydelphia, luggage gently floating alongside me. Ponies rush this way and that, maneuvering through a web of walkways and trains much like a spider homing in on a fly. Outside of the station, street lamps glow with the bright shine of enchanted candles and huge buildings tower overhead, stretching their dark metal frames into an equally dark sky. Even after visiting at least four times, the city still amazes me each time. I begin to trot on a familiar path, working my own way down my own strand of silk.

The buildings shorten as I move through the streets, eventually coming to one particular street paved in brick. I knock on the door of the third house on the right and float an apple out of my suitcase. When she opens the door, my smile grows uncontrollably. “Surprise.”

Her expression echoes mine as she takes in the presence of my luggage. I can see tears starting to form in her eyes as she grasps the apple in her magic and wraps me up in a hug. “I wondered when you would catch on, Teddy.”