There’s a rumbling in my stomach as I enter the town. It’s a deep, ominous sound, but for now it’s just a sound, and I am thankful for that. There’s still time before the real rumbling starts.

I take the air in with a long, deep sniff. I smell flowers on the breeze, sweat on the backs of ponies and a faint scent of manure, which I wrinkle my nose at. I take a few more sniffs, and the real scents start flooding in. The scents of food.

There’s a particularly strong whiff of the stuff coming from an inviting, whimsical building. A sign identifies it as “Sugarcube Corner” as I trot inside, taking more brief sniffs of the air. The smell is good -- some days I can almost delude myself into feeding on it alone. Some days. Almost.

“Welcome to Sugarcube Corner, dearie, what can I get for you today?” asks a cheery voice from behind the counter, which I identify as belonging to a plump, pleasant-smelling mare.

“Just a... milkshake, please,” I ask, producing some bits from my saddlebag. “Chocolate.”

The mare takes my money with a smile. “Coming up!” she says. “You can take a seat so long, if you don’t mind.”

I don’t, and I sit down at the table nearest the counter, waiting for my milkshake. My forehooves drum against the table’s wooden surface absently.

“What’s wrong with your eye?” a young voice chirps.

I look down, surprised, to see a yellow filly blinking up at me. Ah, to be young and curious.

“Oh, nothing too serious,” I reply, patting the patch over my left eye. “Just have to wait for it to heal from a corrective operation for a few days, and then I’ll take the patch off and see better than ever.”

The filly cocks her head for a moment, but then nods and seems satisfied with my answer.

“Sunrise, stop annoying that poor stallion and come over... here...”

I look up at the filly’s mother as she says this, and see the last pony I ever expected to see again. Of course, I manage to hide the surprise from my face and the subtle glint of recognition from my eyes.

She doesn’t. I can see it quite plainly.

A silent moment passes, and then she speaks. “S-Sunrise, darling, why don’t you ask Mrs Cake if you can go upstairs and visit Auntie Pinkie?”

“Yay!” The filly gallops off in a hurry, and I’m left staring at Lily Blossom, eye to eyes.

“You didn’t change the eyepatch,” she says. “I’d recognise that eyepatch anywhere.”

I try to feign ignorance. “Madame, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Lily Blossom just raises an eyebrow. “I can see it in your good eye too. Even if it’s green now. And in your movements. The way you looked up at me... only you lurch around like that.”

I sigh.

“I just want to know why.” Lily’s face turns from triumphant to fragile in an instant. “Why did you leave?”

It’s been long enough. I was rash back then. Now I don’t feel anything except hunger.

“I didn’t lose my eye in an accident at the factory,” I say, flipping up my eyepatch. “I didn’t lose it at all.”

Lily stares at my real left eye in horror. “Can’t you --”

“No. This is the consequence of trying to feed on my own love.”

“But why?”

I pause. “Because there was none. I couldn’t love you.” I say it without emotion, because there’s nothing inside of me.

Lily just cries.