SHARD #91,311
It was a perfect world.
It was also morning, and morning tasted a little bit saltier than usual today. Perhaps with a slightly tangy aftertaste.
She opened her eyes at a time that sounded like 7:15 AM when a wagon wheel, supporting an abundant load of fuzzy carpets and exotic spices with the power to rip her away from the world she knew and plant her firmly in a thousand foreign lands, hit a stone and let out a loud crack. The blackness of her slumber gave way in an instant to the blackness of a brand new day, and she swung her hooves over the side of her bed as she stretched the fading weariness from her spine with a wet snap that echoed around the room. Then she shook out her mane, tasting the oiliness on the tips of the few hairs that managed to land in her mouth, and trotted into the bathroom for a shower.
She showered because it was necessary, and not for any other reason. She’d considered asking Celestia to take away the need for it more than once, but ultimately decided not to. If nopony showered, they’d never smell any different. The mare wouldn’t know if that pony who’d just walked into a given room was coming in from a hard day’s work or an afternoon of leisure. Secretly, she revelled in all the knowledge she got from a single whiff that nopony else would ever know. Who had been the one to tell her friends that the mayor’s aide had been doing a whole lot more than ‘recording the minutes’ during his private meetings with her? The hint of the mayor’s perfume on his shirt collar told the entire story.
Still, for her showers were a thing to be endured rather than enjoyed. The water pounding against her coat tore away her touch. The crashing noise of water falling onto ceramic cut off her hearing. The few scented oils and shampoos she did use ripped out her sense of smell. When her tongue accidently caught a few droplets from the showerhead, they were disappointingly meaningless to the taste.
What else was there?
When, in the moments when she was feeling deeply morbid and she imagined what death felt like, she assumed it was like an eternal shower. Overwhelming and unending. Thank Celestia she’d never go through something so awful.
After an eternity of nonexistence, the ordeal ended. She was clean, and ready to imprint every part of herself with life. With this day which would reveal itself to her in a billion little ways, before everypony took a shower and it all started again tomorrow.
The mare walked downstairs, and heard the creak of wood under her husband’s hooves as he shifted his weight. He smelled anxious. His breaths sounded ever-so-slightly heavier than they usually did. When she kissed him good morning, he tasted like eggs, and flour, and inept-yet-earnest love. She grinned. He was trying to surprise her with pancakes again. Maybe someday he’d even get them right.
She sat herself down in the chair that was exactly where she expected it to be. Her husband didn’t help her. He’d learned a few centuries ago that he didn’t have to. She felt her smile stretch wider, somehow, impossibly, as he slid the plate in front of her. In the instant the first whiffs hit her nose she identified at least six mistakes he’d committed while making them. The sharp intake of breath beside her as she poured syrup onto them told her he knew it too.
She took a bite. They were pretty awful. Then she took another bite, and another, and another, and proclaimed them to be delicious.
The stir of air beside her told her that the stallion had leaned forward, just the tiniest bit, at her praise. He should have known better than to fall into such an obvious trap. With one smooth motion, she wrapped a foreleg around the back of his head and pulled him into a kiss. The syrup overwhelming her taste buds masked the presence of his tongue darting into her mouth, but she held the kiss until the two delicious sensations intertwined. Syrup-coated-husband more than made up for mediocre pancakes.
After eighty-seven (she’d counted) ticks of the clock on the wall, the kiss broke. They both had a rich, full day in front of them. Much as she’d love to tackle him to the floor and immerse herself in the sensation of him, there wasn’t time right now. Later tonight though, she’d make time. And if she couldn’t then she’d ask Celestia to make it for her.
Reinforced in body and spirit, the mare left her house to attack the new day. A lilting, familiar voice greeted her. The ever-mellifluous and resonant Daisy, her good friend, greeting her as she passed. Daisy was great. She was bombastic. She gave off a perpetually minty scent, unless she was upset in which case she took on the smell of frying eggplant. Other ponies, apparently trying to be helpful, had also told the mare that she was ‘yellow,’ whatever that was.
She shouted her own greeting back at Daisy, and the flower salespony stopped to chat about everything and nothing. Before they parted, they’d agreed to meet up for a wine tasting the next evening. The mare was quite good at those.
Turning her attention back East, the mare felt the rays of the early morning sun striking her face and knew she was pointed exactly towards where she was headed. Little hints of everything seeped into her nostrils, letting her in on so many tiny secrets nopony else would ever see. She could already tell it was going to be another good day.
It was a perfect world.