The windows were clouded, and outside the endless patter of rain stripped color from the world. Drab pink paint that threatened to peel away in another year lined the walls. Inside, two ponies sat side by side, mare resting her head against the stallion’s shoulder. The one bright spot was the nightstand, lined as it was with photographs and fresh violets replaced just that morning.

    On the too-small table before them lay an album, the same two ponies lining its pages, going from vibrant until evolving into the weathered, lined bodies that sat above.

    Nearby sat a tray, food growing cold and barely touched upon it.

    Still, there was warmth. The light touch of hoof against coat. The way lips quirked upwards, how conversations were held where the only sound was the drumbeat of rain upon glass.

    All things must end, however, and the stillness was broken by a long-suffering groan, as mare produced a new book from her purse. She gently slapped the stallion upside the head with it. “Study Guide,” she said sharply, “You quit your aching this instant. This is important. I know you don’t want to talk about it. I know you don’t want to think about it. But we need to get this sorted out.”

    “I know dear. I know.” Study Guide’s voice a whisper. His hoof twined with hers, and squeezed. “Look at me, Songbird. I trust you to make the right choices.”

    “And I want you to pick what makes you happy. There are dozens of flowers to choose from. Ponies who will want to speak. Stories about us we’ll want to have told. Who to preside, who to -” She was shaking now. Slowly, carefully, Study Guide wrapped his foreleg about her and drew her in close.

    “Hush, now. Save your strength. We shouldn’t spend what time we have left together fighting over such things. I want to look at you. I want every moment we have to be timeless. This - all of this? It’s for youl, dear. The day is about you, not me. You choose whatever makes you happy. And know that I support that choice. It’s your funeral, not mine. The carnations will be fine. They’re your favorite.”

    Songbird’s silent sobs shook frail body, and tears fell in the room as the rain soaked hospital grounds.

[hr]

    Days later, amidst a chapel, somber ponies gathered amidst a room bathed in vibrant pink flowers. The wooden casket lay closed, the pony within now resting in silent repose. And slowly, the one left behind made their way up to the stage.

    “Everypony,” came a thin, reedy voice. “We are gathered here today to remember. To remember a pony whose only desire in life was to see the best in others. To help them blossom. And...I am here to remember the pony, who only ever wanted to make me happy.” Songbird dabbed at red-rimmed eyes. “Even now. He didn’t want today to be about him. That was Study Guide. Humble. Ever-giving.” And as her voice eulogized the one she so loved, outside the sun dried the dew as Spring bathed the world in new life.