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// Looking out a coffee shop window 
// Story: Taking Nature Inland 
// by DynamicEquilibrium115 
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My name is called, I go up to collect my beverage. That hot sweet liquid which serves as a soothing juxtaposition to a cold bitter day. I take a seat behind the window and gaze through the clear panes through which the marvels of Canterlot architecture grace my eyes, sleek refined marble and dominant towers with a surprising archaic charm, cobblestone streets that endure the stamping of many hooves year round and countless shops each with colourful displays to attract the antique hunter.

Some ponies go by, unicorns mostly, with extravagant attire, hats that outmatch an entire flower garden and enough makeup to make them indistinguishable to a circus performer. I dip my nose into my cup and an artwork of aroma is expressed, other ponies drink and go in the same amount of time it took them to get here but I stay for a while. 

After a short adventure on street level my eyes turn upwards to the royal palace, giant gates and guards stand above us and above them the sun and moon. Do the princesses ever take the time to just look out the window once in a while? To see the hustle and rush of passing crowds, masses moving through structures and across the ocean over our heads, the time of day valued only as a reminder of a party or social gathering. 

Thoughts and opinions do not run free like the wild buffalo of Appleloosa Junction or the dragons of Scale Valley, satisfaction comes from following the herd, like sheep. Few to none consider taking some time to be alone with one’s thoughts, to embrace deeper perception, to feel the emotion of the environment. As I sit here sipping away slowly, tables and chairs are abandoned like desolate islands, food and drink not enjoyed for flavour but as a way of passing time, to stall till the next appointment and drown out boredom. I feel differently but the store is closing and I must go.

As skylight falls into darkness signs of neon burst to life and the night scene is initiated. Looking down I find an empty void where that hot liquid used to be and feel the urge to return home. Maybe tomorrow I’ll bring a friend or some family and show them the world through a coffee shop window, maybe they'll feel the same way.