//------------------------------//
// Insights 
// Story: The Unicorn and the Stranger 
// by PhycoKrusk 
//------------------------------//

	The next evening, just as the sun was beginning to set, Rarity walked forlornly across the sand to Driftwood’s bungalow. She had not had the success she’d hoped for, and a very small part of her was dreading the walk, convinced that he would gloat about her failure to resolve her dilemma, even while the rest of her was certain he would do no such thing, citing as proof that he had encouraged her to follow through in the first place.

Nonetheless, when she came to a stop in front of his door, it was several seconds more before she was able to pull her courage together, raise her hoof, and knock three times.

Rarity had convinced herself that Driftwood would know the truth the moment he opened the door; he’d proven to be quite insightful already. She was surprised — if only just — when he opened the door with a bright smile and welcomed her inside, asking if she would care for some iced tea or perhaps fresh orange juice to drink. She answered only with a simple, “Tea,” as she stepped inside, hooves clacking lightly against the hardwood floor.

As Driftwood went to get Rarity her drink — asking not about her day out, but rather about life in the Midlands — she observed the inside of his abode for the first time, observing her new environment while she answered her host’s questions. It was as simple in as it was out, really just a single room, although it did appear there may have been another room off the right wall, given the presence of a door there. Next to that door was a mattress, resting on the floor, pressed against the wall and neatly made. A short wooden dresser was to the left of the mattress, along the back wall, and to the left of that was another door. To the left of the door was a short pile of small, wood logs and a very old looking and small cast iron stove that gave way into the kitchen, where Driftwood was.

The kitchen itself was composed of little more than a plain, wooden counter and small cupboard with no doors that held plates and drinking glasses. The counter supported a simple wash basin, and several jars of various spices, as well as three large glass jars filled with rice, and two large bowls and a covered skillet that doubtlessly held their dinner. Several pots and more skillets of different sizes were stacked in the corner next to the small icebox that Driftwood was placing the pitcher of tea back in. Rounding out the kitchen was a low, dark wood table that could seat four uncomfortably, but was ideal for two, and that Driftwood was approaching with two glasses of tea balanced on a tray. Already, two table settings were out for them.

To the left of the front door, in the corner was a very old phonograph, and to the right of the front door was a sitting area with several pillows around another low table, all atop a patterned rug that was beginning to fray in several places. The rafters overhead were opened all the way up to the roof, with some slats between them to create space for storage, and a total of three suspended oil lamps for light, although the sunlight coming in through the front windows provided enough illumination for that moment. The air was heavy with the smell of citrus.

It managed to be a bit surprising in how simple it was, and Rarity felt as if she were expecting more, for a reason she could not identify. It was a thought she pushed aside as she approached the kitchen table, Driftwood already setting out dinner as their conversation continued.

The dinner that Driftwood had prepared provided an additional surprise, being a simple fare of rice that had been steamed rather than boiled and barely dusted with finely ground sea salt, fresh spinach with a tiny bit of grated ginger root, green beans and two very small filets of white ocean fish that had been seared and flavored with lemon juice and black pepper — and that Rarity was reluctant to eat until Driftwood convinced her to try a bit. She was surprised once more when she discovered that she rather liked the fish and happily ate the rest.

It reminded her a bit of something that her dear friend Applejack might cook, if only in its simplicity.

After dinner, they made quick work of the dishes despite only have a wash basin to work with, and then retired to the porch to enjoy glasses of iced tea and happily continue their conversation and watch the sun finish its journey across the sky. They had progressed barely one minute into this before Driftwood struck:

“Did you enjoy the museum and galleries?

At the question, the smile on Rarity’s face fell. “No,” she said. “You were right, and there were so many things to see that seemed odd or even ugly until I looked at them differently, but nothing helped. I’m still where I started when I arrived here.”

“Mm,” Driftwood replied, falling silent for a few moments. “But did you enjoy them?”

Rarity herself fell silent for a few moments, and then the corners up her mouth ticked up into a smile once more. “Yes, Driftwood, I did,” she replied. “Thank you for encouraging me to go, even if I had planned to already.”

“I was more than happy to, Rarity,” Driftwood said with his own smile; a smile that did not escape Rarity’s notice.

“Should I take the upturn at the corners of your mouth to mean you now have some insights into what might work?” she asked.

“I have some insights into what hasn’t worked, and that’s often better,” Driftwood replied. “Once you’ve eliminated the credible, then whatever remains, however incredible, must be the answer.” He gave a nod, and Rarity raised a hoof to her lips to contain her giggles. “What?” asked Driftwood.

“Nothing,” Rarity replied as she recomposed herself, a small smile still gracing her features. “You remind me of a friend back in Ponyville.”

Driftwood smiled in return. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said. “But really, I do have some thoughts, something to try, at least. Come back here tomorrow morning about…” He paused for a moment, glancing up to the ceiling of the porch as he thought. “Eight o’clock. And do not eat breakfast before, not even a piece of toast. I’ll take care of breakfast. And above all else, bring your bathing suit.”

“Oh? Is that your plan, then? A swim in the ocean?” Rarity asked.

“Something like that.”

They raised their glasses and toasted to bright futures.