Applejack choked, and Rarity saw it. She had been rushing things, like with the dresses she had tried to make last week. Always rushing. She had tried to make dresses with gorgeous gossamer wings attached, but she had ripped the whole roll with her rushing. She dropped the roses and ran, rushing out the door. Rushing through the newly falling rain the pegasi had scheduled, the drops falling with her tears. She rushed to her home, ignoring the mud on her hooves as she collapsed on a psychiatric couch. In all this time, Applejack had exclaimed one sentence, following the lines of her loving Rarity too. But Rarity had rushed off before the words could be thought. She lifted the roses in her mouth, noting their thornless-ness, and set them with the daisies in a vase. Then she slowly walked up the stairs, collapsing onto her own bed, and they simultaneously fell asleep, almost as if planned by the two mares. Granny Smith watched through the door, her lips folding into a knowing smile as she carefully led her creaking bones to her own bedroom, undoing her white hair and letting it fall to her shoulders as she fell asleep.