“Sir, is there a reason why you’re here?”
“Well,” you stupid idiot, “I assure you I am here for a very important matter.”
Flim leaned over the hotel receptionist’s desk, flashing a wide charming smile. He had been arguing with her for what felt like forever, somehow managing to keep us his cool exterior the entire time. The mare glared at him over her tiny spectacles, and with a raised brow, she said, “You’ve been loitering around in here for almost an hour.”
“It’s business, my dear. I’m here for business. I’m waiting for my partner to show up,” Flim replied, his voice faltering on the word partner.
“Uh-huh…what’s your name anyway?”
“Ma’am, do you really need my name? All I’m doing is waiting…”
“If you have a meeting with somepony, I need your name.”
Flim threw his head back and let an exasperated groan, his hooves grasped around the desk’s edge. He felt that ache starting in his muscles, beginning with a sharp pain in his chest. Letting out a deep breath, he muttered, “You know what, fine, okay, fine. I’ll step outside then.” He quickly wheeled around, but not before catching a cocky smirk on that mare’s face. Flim stomped out of the hotel lobby, plopping down on the front steps, his head resting on his hoof.
The pain in his chest began to subside, as his mind began to calm down with it. The pain was nothing new. He had felt it after he was thrown out of Ponyville, after the Super Cider Squeezy broke down for the final time—and most recently, a few days ago, after placing a small envelope into his mailbox. The moment he let that letter slip out of his hoof, the ache clamped around his body, never leaving up until now. Every morning he would creep out to his mailbox, finding yet another stack of bills and taxes, but no letters. So when the date of November 30 came with no reply, Flim felt another wave of anxiety flood his body, adding to the already-existing aches and throbs.
Flim began to run through the plan in his mind, only to remember he barely had one to begin with. He had woken up in the wee hours of the morning, taking time to get himself as spiffy as possible. His mane had been brushed out for the first time in weeks, and he had given extra effort into scrubbing out his fur until it was shiny and stain-free. He wore his only formal coat without holes, a white jacket that matched the hat tipped slightly on his head. Once he had been sufficiently dressed up, Flim made his way over to a hotel on the other side of town, where Flam was supposed to be. And then, once he was there….
Well, that part was still quite a mystery.
His hooves impulsively started to tug on his collar, pulling it snug against the nape of his neck. Scanning the road, he found crowds of unfamiliar faces trotting by. He had never been to this side of Gallopton, where hotels and businesses seemed to pop out of the ground like weeds. But no matter where he went, Flim always spied the eyes watching him, and the whispers. After years of living in the background, he had gotten quite good at catching them.
He looked up at the towering clock face just down the road. It was almost noon, which meant he had been waiting for an hour. The bells started to clamor, sending an ache through Flim’s skull and a shiver down his spine. He had wasted an hour on these steps, and Flam was still nowhere to be found. Is he not coming?, Flim asked himself. But…I waited…no, he has to be on his way. He has to be.
“Probably just running a bit late,” Flim muttered with a chuckle, drawing a confused stare from a tiny filly as she walked down the street with her mom. He spied a coffee shop just across the street. Springing up, he said, “If he’s running a bit late, I suppose I could get some snacks.” He galloped across the busy intersection with his chin up, while his heart seemed fit to pound right out of his chest.
Thankfully, there was no Glimmer this time around to flirt with, so Flim ordered a hot coffee and a biscuit. “It’s a bit chilly out there, don’t you think?” Flim asked the cashier.
“I guess,” the young cashier mumbled, handing Flim his change.
“Uh-huh, right…well, nice talking to ya, sport.” This town...full of ungrateful brats...
The stallion perched himself at a table occupied by another mare, who was too busy reading the papers to notice. Flim’s eyes ventured out the window, where the roads where crowded with carriages and the sky was covered by dark gray rain clouds.
The coffee and biscuit was placed on his table, but Flim simply sat there, continuing to stare out the window. His eyes were trained at nothing in particular, just wandering around the blurriness that Gallopton had long since become. And to make matters worse, the place only seemed to grow darker as time passed. He watched the unsettling clouds, the ponies fumbling through the gray, the carriages creaking down the road…
Suddenly, something popped out of the corner of his eye. Flim paused, captured by a sleek black carriage pulling up to the hotel. The carriage’s doors swung open, and a duo of buff pegasi dressed in suits stepped outside. The two lined up on either side of the door and stood erect, their eyes covered by dark shades.
And then, another stallion stepped out. The figure was quite tall; he was mostly made up of his long and lanky limbs. He wasn’t showy, only wearing a plain white coat, eerily similar to the jacket Flim was wearing. His red mane was slicked back, and a glowing horn protruded out of it, levitating an attaché case at his side. A glowing smile protruded from underneath his thick mustache.
Flim let his biscuit fall onto the table, and his legs go limp at his side. There he was—Flam, in the flesh. The only things separating the two twins were a measly road and a duo of burly pegasi. The stallion licked his dry lips, sweat starting to pool on his brow. This was moment he had been waiting for months, ever since he saw that newspaper announcing Flam’s arrival. All he had to do was step outside and holler.
And yet, he could not. His body wouldn’t let him.
His legs felt like they were made of concrete, stuck to the floor and unable to manage even a tiny quiver. Whenever he tried to clear his throat, a raspy whimper would escape. Flim was frozen in his seat, unable to take his eyes off the figure strolling up the steps. His mind screamed at his body to make a move, but there was no response. All he could do was stare into the city of gray engulfing his vision. Even after the figure had sauntered through the doors and disappeared, Flim could only stare.
After a few minutes—or seconds, or hours—of watching those glass doors, Flim finally broke down. He buried his face into his hooves, letting silent tears seep into his sleeve. It had slipped through his grasp. In that coffee shop packed with ponies, Flim felt utterly alone.
When he finally uncovered his face, the mare sitting across from him was long gone, replaced by an older, sleepy-eyed gentlecolt. The coffee was no longer steaming. The hard biscuit still lay messily on the table, crumbs strewn all over his jacket. It had begun to drizzle outside, but there were still scores of ponies walking down the sidewalk, umbrellas held over their heads.
Flim rubbed his red eyes, the tears long since dried up. He looked at the clock, startled to see just how much time had passed. He figured he had dozed off, especially considering just how exhausted his body felt.
Casting one more glance at the hotel, Flim levitated his half-eaten goods and started to stand up. As he backed away from the table, his flank bumped against somepony. “Beg your pardon,” the stallion mumbled, slowly turning around.
He stopped with a jolt, almost spilling his coffee across his coat. With wide eyes, Flim came face to face with himself—plus a bushy mustache.
The duo stared at each other for quite some time, the same perplexed glare coming from their green eyes. Sounds murmured from Flim’s dry throat, unable to form them into coherent words. Even after months of planning, he never imagined he’d come this far, or be this close.
Finally, his sibling licked his lips and gave a forced chuckle. “Well, uh…long time, no see…hasn’t it, Flim?”