//------------------------------// // Epilogue // Story: The Diamond Cutter // by Nova Force //------------------------------// Epilogue “But then you hurt me. You hurt me really bad.” The words burned in her mind. Not only did Silver Spoon lose the art show, she lost her best friend to a bucktoothed chump. She stood by her easel, while most ponies were pushing each other to see Twist’s first-place painting. “Hoof-painting. What a gimmick,” Silver Spoon whispered to herself. Still, the amount of attention directed at Twist filled her with envy. She almost began to pack up and leave, before a certain business pony came over to inspect her work. “Hey, Silver Spoon, what’s that? It looks like a rippling water droplet,” Filthy Rich said. The gray filly startled him when she lit up and squealed, “Finally!” The fact that Diamond Tiara’s father was the first pony not to mistake her artwork for a drill made her happier than it should have. Her reaction caught him off guard. “Uh, what’s the matter, sweetie?” The image of Snails filled her head. “I don’t intend to waste another moment on you. Goodbye.” Silver Spoon snapped out of her thoughts. “I just feel like I should have won.” A fatherly grin spread across Filthy Rich’s face. “Oh now, I’ll tell you what I always tell Diamond Tiara: Don’t get attached to the outcome.” In all the time that Silver Spoon had spent with her best friend, she couldn’t remember a single time she had said anything like this. “What do you mean by that?” “Getting attached to outcomes is a dangerous business.” Filthy Rich held a hoof to his chest. “Take me, for example. About a week or so ago, I had a meeting in Canterlot to see if I could expand my business there. We’re still in talks, but I never imagined when I started ‘Rich’s Barnyard Bargains’ that I’d be able to branch out to Canterlot. I have no idea if we’ll be able to expand there or not, but I’m prepared for the outcome, good or bad.” Silver Spoon wasn’t connecting the dots. “Uh, what does this have to do with me?” Filthy Rich chuckled. “You sound just like Diamond Tiara. When we get attached to outcomes, that can lead us to disappointment and even depression. The only thing we can truly control is how hard we try and how we react to the results.” He could see Silver Spoon’s eyes widen at his words, so he continued. “Listen, sweetheart, it’s been awhile since I was your age, but I believe this is true.” There was a pause, as if a something had occurred to him. “Shoot, if I had a bit for every time Diamond Tiara told me that I’m a fuddy-duddy then, well, I’d be as rich as me!” Filthy Rich let out an obnoxious laugh. Silver Spoon did not. When he collected himself, the business pony continued, “Oh, Celestia have mercy… anyway, my point is that even if you didn’t get the result that you wanted, that’s okay. You might think that you messed up, but don’t think that it’s too late to change. Messing up is a part of being yourself.” Silver Spoon got the feeling that Diamond Tiara’s father was no longer talking about losing the art show. “What do you mean?” “I mean that you are becoming ‘yourself’ every day of your life. It’s a process that continues for as long as you live. Every day you make choices, and those choices will influence how you think. You fall into routines, but no matter how hard you try, routines are never permanent. Even the attitudes you have about yourself and others shift over time, sometimes in an instant.” Tears ran down Silver Spoon’s face. Filthy Rich pulled the gray filly closer to him, allowing her to sob onto his silk tie. “There, there, sweetie. This is all part of growing up.” While he rubbed her back, Filthy Rich glanced over to a rabble of ponies surrounding around Twist. Another idea popped into his head. “You know, Silver Spoon, I think Twist would appreciate you congratulating her on her victory.” Silver Spoon pulled her head back and looked up at Diamond Tiara’s father. He directed her toward the crowd and stepped away. For few moments, Silver Spoon stood still. Filthy Rich moved closer and gave her a little push. She turned to look at him, her brow furrowed with doubt, questioning eyes peering up at him through baby blue horn-rimmed glasses, but he nodded forward. Silver Spoon began her slow trot toward Twist. Several ponies stood around admiring the hoof-painted project. With each step Silver Spoon felt anxiousness brewing. Offering congratulations was not her usual way, and everypony knew it. At this point, however, Silver Spoon had nothing to lose. She carefully waded through the crowd until she reached the pony of the hour. “Hey, uh, Twist,” she began. The frizzy, red-maned filly turned and was surprised to see her. Before Twist could say anything, however, Silver Spoon continued. “Congratulations on winning first place. You did a great job.” “Thanks, Silver Spoon!” In an act that no pony could have predicted, Twist threw her hooves around Silver Spoon in a friendly hug. The rush of winning still filled her with joy. During the embrace, Filthy Rich’s words resonated in Silver Spoon’s mind: Even the attitudes we have about ourselves and others shift over time, sometimes in an instant. Silver Spoon lifted her hooves and wrapped them around Twist. “You’re welcome.”