A writer sits at a desk. His only air comes from a cigarette. His only companion is a life-sucking demon. His only critique is himself. How romantic indeed.
The sun is big and beautiful and bright. It warms you up, and it makes you smile. But the sun can also exhaust you. And if you stare directly into the sun, if you get all caught up in its beauty and forget to look away, it can blind you.
Rarity discovers an old tradition involving the exchange of felt dolls as a sign of affection. This sparks a brilliant plan to play matchmaker with her friends, and between herself and Twilight. But brilliant plans never go as expected, do they?