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The First Encounter2,046 words
The Hardest Part Of Waking Up1,984 words
The Longest Kind Of Waiting2,580 words

The First Encounter

High Flyer always dreaded the ringing of his cloud home's front doorbell.

The sound, usually—thankfully—a rare one, always signified the coming of some random stranger vying for his attention and pestering him with something terrifying, like the census or the local baking competition. There was something that inwardly scared High Flyer about other ponies, something that he was pretty much too nervous to mull on. Maybe that's why he'd bought his house in the sky, when there were plenty of much nicer ground homes for considerably less prices. Up here, only Pegasi or incredibly resilient party ponies could bother him, which generally meant that he could spend most of his days in a relaxing bout of isolation, far away from anyone who could wish to bother him.

Why would anypony in their right mind want to talk to him anyway? He wasn't rude, per say, just... awkward...?

Talking wasn't something he was really, well, good at, whenever it came up. Not to say that he had different interests than the other residents of Ponyville—if he could even call himself a resident of the town—who loved talking about how proud they were of housing the legendary Elements of Harmony themselves, or how often their lives were in danger, but he had different... things to say about them. Weird things, apparently, if the odd looks and quiet whispers at his rare social events meant anything. Even if he hadn't said a word, ponies tended to turn their heads and murmur things to each other. Maybe they were just surprised to see the town hermit finally standing on the dirt. Maybe they wanted to be his friends, but didn't know how to approach him.

In the end, though, there was an underlying reason why he'd decided to buy a cloud house instead of a ground one, and that was because he didn't like to be around other ponies. The doorbell, and the door it accompanied, was his last connection to the outside world, and with its deafening ringing always echoing through his many halls, he remained attached to the world of Equestria no matter how much he didn't like it.

A small orange filly dressed in a weird skirt with a rainbow maned psycho next to her asking about cookies? He'd seen them.

A yellow mare with a pink mane asking if he'd seen her crows? He'd closed the door on her.

Some deranged goat thing with snapping claws and suddenly appearing chocolate milk? He'd hid in the closet from him too.

He'd like nothing else than to simply ignore his doorbell, but, well, he had to receive checks from his mother somehow.

Today was no different. It wasn't a check—no, he'd gotten that Sunday—so his normally swift step was much less so. He'd recently realized that he had enough money to buy one of those cool blenders that could mix whatever you threw in it into a smoothie, and so he'd scoured through his old Save More's catalogs to order one. To be honest, he thought that the whole idea of such a thing sounded super dumb, but, hey, he had leftover fruits and vegetables. Why not do something with them? If there was anything better than eating, it was eating a lot of things at the same time, and he could do that with one of those blenders.

So, scraping together the courage to go outside his front door, he stuck a check into an envelope, scribbled the store's address down hastily on top of it, licked it closed, and threw it into his mailbox. Already exhausted, with his mane and wings sweatier than a bulldog on a summer day, High Flyer returned to the inside of his home and waited for the mailmare or whoever to retrieve his letter.

A full week had gone by since that Tuesday, which meant that he'd be getting his new machine at literally any time. He'd prepared himself for the second he heard the ring ring ringing of his doorbell and devised a scheme so well rehearsed he was practically a member of the Canterlot Symphony, and when it finally came, he promptly forgot everything he'd planned and scurried carefully toward the front door of his house.

He pressed his back against the wooden closet containing all his food, inched to his left side, and peeked his head out to stare down the stairs. From behind the circle of glass embedded in the middle of his door, he could plainly see the blurred silhouette of the mailpony, who stood almost like a statue as if trying to look back at him from his front porch. His breath caught in his throat as the figure cocked their head to their left, and then to their right, before seemingly raising a foreleg and staring at it. Oh no, they were wearing a watch!

They had better things to be doing today, and here he was prolonging their busy schedule by hiding from their gaze like some meek house cat. He swallowed a lump down his throat and felt a chill crawl up and down his spine. Bearing his teeth, he felt his mind go blank, and he stayed rooted to the fluffy floor where he stood.

The figure suddenly disappeared.

He blinked rapidly. Where... were– were they gone? Had they flown off, unsuccessful at rousing him from whatever he was doing? Maybe they'd left his package on the porch. He gave a half-hearted, tried smile. That would be the best case scenario, if anything. He didn't have to talk to somepony, and he still got his box. The mailpony did their job, and could continue doing it without meeting him! Everypony wins!

Creeping out from behind the corner, he began to descend his steps with a chuckle escaping his wobbly lips. He'd done it! Now, he could go and start blending some stuff. If he remembered, he had some bananas and apples lying around in his fridge somewhere. He could probably start his blending frenzy with the most common of–

DING DONG!

He froze, his heart going into a crazed fever as his chest heaved and ho'd. His eyes grew wider than the dinner plates in his cabinet when the figure reappeared in the window of his front door.

From what little he could see of them, they leaned over to their right and... waved at him!

They saw him!

He turned about frantically, looking for a way out. Maybe he could pretend to be a statue, or, or, or, maybe he could pretend to be deaf! Blind? Maybe he was having a hard time finding the front door because he couldn't see! Then again, a blind guy wouldn't go and buy a blender now, would they? Unless they had a household aid or something like that. Somepony who came over everyday to help him do daily stuff like walk and brush his teeth. He'd seen commercials for–

DING DONG!

His voice, unrehearsed and heavily underused, came out in a terrified stammer. "I–I'm coming!"

He was in the middle of the staircase. There was no getting out of this. Sucking in a breath, he slowly trotted down the last few steps, raised a shaky hoof up to his doorknob, and cracked his door open just enough for his package to slide through. The least amount of skin he could show was the best amount, for both him and whoever was waiting for him on the other side.

High Flyer poked his head out, a quickly made-up excuse on his tongue, when his jaw dropped to the floor by his hooves.

The most... beautiful mare he'd ever seen in his entire life was sitting patiently before him, her mail bags bursting with envelopes and letters and her brown delivery hat tilted slightly on her heavenly, blonde mane. She cocked her bluish-gray head at him with a drop-dead cute smile tugging at her lips, then waggled her eyebrows with a little hum that caused his heart to stop. He'd never seen this mare before! It was usually the brown stallion with the thick beard, who looked at him with curiosity and talked up an unwanted storm! Was she new? Was...

...he shook his head and found the mare holding a large rectangular cardboard box in her hooves. It looked almost too small for it to be a blender. Maybe it was just in pieces, y'know, some assembly required.

The mailmare craned her neck to her right and bit down on the top of a clipboard, then placed it in her grasp and hummed at it.

"I think I'll need a signature..." she began, effectively ceasing High Flyer's train of thought with her Gods-sent voice that he swore was the first thing you heard when you died, "...but I'm not..." she trailed off again, narrowing her yellow eyes and scanning the paper in her hooves, "...really sure where..." She scrunched up her nose in obvious annoyance, her eyes going wobbly as she continued her aggressive search. High Flyer, realizing that he wasn't breathing, sucked in a breath of air with the unmistakable sound of a hot dog mortar. If he so happened to pass away at this exact moment in time, this angel of above fuming in front of him with his blender by her side, he wouldn't have made a huge fuss.

The mailmare, expression softening, tilted her head, let out a low note, then suddenly giggled and turned her clipboard completely upside-down. "Whoops!" She laughed sweetly, "I had it upside-down! Sorry!"

"It's alright, gorgeous," High Flyer tried to say.

"What, you, yeah, y-you too," High Flyer stuttered out instead. He pressed his lips against his cheeks as he realized his mistake, and was about to correct himself when the mailmare thrust the clipboard toward him.

"Alright! Just sign on the bottom, please!"

Reaching forward, a dumb, googly-eyed expression plastered on his face, High Flyer grabbed at the pen haphazardly taped to the side of the clipboard, tried his hardest to wrestle it free, and succeeded in doing so as the mare simply stared at him patiently.

Coiling his hoof around it, he brought its tip over to the paper...

...and suddenly dropped the pen to the floor.

"I'll–"

"I'll get it!" He claimed, bending over to retrieve it so that she didn't have to.

Feeling something hard contact with his skull, he ground his teeth together and grabbed at his head, recoiling back with a wince and a short, astute, "Ouch!"

Rubbing at his injury, he cracked open an eyelid and found the mare doing the same.

Oh Gods, he'd just hurt her!

"I'm sorry–"

"Sorry!"

They looked at each other in silence, still assessing their heads.

High Flyer sucked on his bottom lip, thinking up another, better, apology. The mailmare mirrored him.

She turned away for a few seconds, eyes still half-lidded in pain, before she straightened her back and gasped. "Oh no! I'm late again!" Scurrying to her hooves, she gathered up her clipboard, fluttered her wings, and stepped away from where High Flyer still sat in a dumbfounded daze. "Have a good day!" Flapping now, she lifted off his porch at a really weird angle, turned her head, and gave him a little wave and a smile, then flew away at a speed that definitely didn't show any sign of panic.

High Flyer continued staring at where the mare had disappeared from his sights, heart beating out of his chest.

His eyes flickered down to the ground in front of him, finding her pen still lying where it had fallen.

Bending over and finally picking it up, he gazed back to the sky with a goofy grin stretching to both his ears, chuckled, and spoke to the clouds.

"I love you."

Author's Note:

Something different! Had an idea for this while on my way back from a hunting trip, blaring Mail It In in my ears. Let me know what you think! Thanks !