I pull open the curtains and look out the third-story window. Cold, gray streets. A couple of ponies trotting their way across town, trying to get out of the brisk autumn chill. But that’s it. The ponies here say that Fillydelphia’s the city of brotherly love. Feh. What does this city know about love? Just a bunch of nonsense to drum up tourism.

Turn back inside and pick up my sack. Just need a few necessities today. The scrapbook, of course. Bit pouch, which I pop open. I look inside and do the math. Should take about a week, so… four oughta do it. I work my way into the heap, sifting through my collection. Blasted room’s barely big enough to fit it all, and the last thing I want is for the pile to come crashing down. Snowglobe from Manehatten, pretty sure I have a few of those left. That tacky cat figurine from Los Pegasus. The scarf I got in Mane will go for a lot this time of year, and I don’t need such a sissy thing. And the wind chimes from Detrot. I set all the bulky stuff into my pack—not heavy, just large and clunky. But yeah. That’ll do.

Give myself a look-over in the mirror from Vanhoover before I go. Not bad, all considerin’. Got a bit of mane left, yet. Starting to get a bit of a wrinkle in the old jowls, but they’re jowls. They look respectable. A bit of stubble. Maybe I should shave. “Mmm.” I should. I do. Then it’s out the door and down the steps.

---

Of course, she’s there behind the front desk, same as every morning. Gives me the same smile as she walks out, a tray of coffee and daisies balanced on her back. “Oh, why good morning there, Cranky! Right on schedule.”

“Ms. Stardust,” I grunt.

She walks over to my usual table in the dining area, slides the tray off her back, and smiles over her shoulder. “Oh, Cranky, I always tell ya: ‘Lemon’ is fine.”

Same song and dance every morning for the past four months. Not a clue why she insists on her first name like that. Sure, great name for a sixteen-year-old mare, brimming with energy and eagerness. Not a name that wears well on ya, decades later. More like something you’d be ashamed about sooner or later, like those tongue piercings fillies are getting nowadays. And with how hard she sells the whole “kind, portly mother to everypony” routine, you figure she’d have more dignity than to cling to a youthful name like that. “Mmm.” Still, at least she makes a strong cup of joe. Just the way I like it.

“Will you be out again today? It’s a bit breezy so you’ll want to bundle up, alrighty?”

“I’ll be fine.” The song and dance continues as she nags me about the weather, but I won’t have anything to do with it. Course, I learned the hard way that Stardust is not a mare who asks rhetorical questions. Least she’s easy enough to get off my back, so long as I give her enough. “Sweeping round 4th and Timberwolf, then out to the edge of the city. Sprinklin’ a few errands in between.”

“Ooo, aren’t you just tenacious like a bulldog,” she says, planting her elbows on the table. Yep, there’s the folksy metaphor, there’s her sitting down opposite me for a spell. The daisies are crisp. She sure does fix a mean breakfast. “I’d actually like to join you today, if you don’t mind.”

Well. That certainly’s not in the script. I swallow my mouthful of grub and give her the look. “No.”

“Cranky.” Her tone has that raising pitch on the end, the kind you use with young jacks. Seriously, she lays the “mother” thing on way too thick.

“No, thank you.”

She does that thing she does whenever she’s cross with me, where she gives a rapid little shake of her head. Always sends her short, rust-colored mane cascading every which way across that pale yellow coat, ‘til the whole affair settles back into order. “I haven’t rightly met a pony—or donkey for that matter—who runs out from dawn to dusk every day to go on ‘sweeps’. You can’t blame a mare for being curious.”

I huff out a breath, still hot from the mouthful of rich, black coffee. “Seeing how I haven’t elaborated any of the dozen times you’ve asked…”

She closes her eyes and lifts her hoof and a nose. It’s that pose a rural pony gives when they’re trying to act like a high-class type, seeing how they’ve never met one in their life. Wouldn’t surprise me to learn that’s where she’s from. She certainly has the rural vibe to her. “Now, hold on a moment, I never said I’d stick my nose in where it ain’t welcome. I’m just planning to go for a walk, and if me and you end up in the same places all day, well, that’s certainly some coincidence.”

“Mmm.” Likely story. Turn my glare out the window for now. “You don’t have a day to spare.”

She waggles her hoof at me and winks. “Now, Cranky, I can’t believe you’d have so little faith in me. Got Red Wagon coming in at noon to fix the sink in 5B, and Rosy Lights works Thursdays so she’ll be able to watch the front desk. I’m nearly offended that you think I can’t get a day off at my own building, if and when I want it.”

My sigh is deep and rolls on the back of my throat. It’s for her sake, of course. A loud, well-timed sigh does wonders for shaking a stubborn pony off your back, and I’ve got decades of experience. But she’s a stubborn one, that Stardust. My sigh just runs off her back like water. Outside, the pony pedestrians are starting to pick up, and today’s a busy day. I can’t afford to argue. “Fine.”

“Ooo, how fantastic.” She claps her hooves like a schoolfilly and grins as the pink one walks in the front door. “And Rosy, your timing could not have been any more perfect. Just let me grab my bag and my scarf.” One last eye-twinkling smile at me, then she’s trotting off to the back room.

Well. Terrific. At least I can hope she’ll stay quiet.

---

Oh, Cranky, ya old boy. Now why would you go and jinx it?

“—this show, Unicorn on the Rooftops? Oh. My. Celestia. The girls in the office saw it last week on opening night, and they could not rave enough about it. I’ve got tickets to see it a week from this Saturday and I just can’t contain myself!” Stardust yammers along as I drag her down 7th Street. Crazy pony gets more than a few seconds alone with me, and treats it as an excuse to make my ears fall off.

“Right. Sounds wonderful.” I’m really rather proud of my sarcasm. I’ve had loads of practice. Could write a book on the matter, if I cared to bother. The fact that this mare just ignores it out-of-hoof has to be intentional. There’s just no way. “Anyway, we’re here.”

She stops mid-sentence, standing out on the sidewalk as I push the shop’s door open. “Here? Where’s here?”

“First errand,” I explain.

I’ve been in this shop a few times, at least in Fillydelphia. Doesn’t really matter where you are, though. They’re all the same. Fulla trinkets and heirlooms. Things ponies said they’d part with “just for a short time. Just ‘til I get enough bits together.” Never works that way, though. I’ve done this enough times to learn that. But it doesn’t really matter. Memories ain’t apples to apples. The important ones… well, sure. You guard those with your life, because they are your life. But what you had yesterday for breakfast? A memory like that isn’t significant. No point in hanging onto it. And if you find somepony willing to pay a few bits for it? Well, that’s one way to make ends meet.

The shopkeep makes a beeline for me as soon as he spots me. Like I said, I’ve only been in this particular shop a few times, so I doubt he recognizes me. Nah, I probably have that look about me: a donkey who’s willing to sell some memories in exchange for something greater. Or perhaps it’s just the sack over my shoulder. The two of us get straight to business.

Stardust noses her way into our exchange, naturally. That promise lasted all of fourty minutes. Frowns at me and does that head shake of hers. “Cranky, what’s all this? If you need a little more time on your rent…”

“No. This doesn’t have anything to do with your rent.” I grunt and show the shopkeep that the snowglobe very clearly is not cracked. Lousy skinflint.

“Well…” She bends down so that she can get a look at my eyes. Puts a hoof on my back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Why, yes, Ms. Stardust. In fact, I would love to tell you all about it. “Mmm.”

Naturally, she doesn’t take the hint. Just stands there, frowning and leaning in far too close while I wrap up my little exchange. I add the bits to my pouch and give them a quick count just to make sure I’m not losing my marbles. Yep, we’re good. Give the shopkeep a nod, turn to the door, and I’m on my way.

For once, Stardust has the sense not to pry. She just follows along, quiet-like, as we make our way further downtown.

---

I’d be lying if I said it was easy work. Us donkeys are a rare enough breed in Equestria. Most days out, even in a city the size of Fillydelphia, I don’t even run across another donkey. Course, still beats hoofin’ it through the rural areas, where you might not run across another anything. At least, here, I can accomplish something by talking to the local ponyfolk.

Course, I don’t normally have a busybody tagging along, threatening to ask questions I really don’t want to answer.

But it’s fine. Most ponies have things to do, and they don’t need some old stick-in-the-mud wasting their time. So I keep it short. Any other donkeys live around here? No? Enjoy your life. Move down a few blocks, try again.

Stick-in-the-mud. If “Lemon” Stardust is a name she grew out of, mine’s one I grew into. Name a foal Cranky and sure, chances are, the kid’s probably gonna turn out to have a grouchy streak. But I’d say I’m more than a little justified in being a crabapple, when my one moment of happiness, the one jenny to warm my jaded heart, disappears without a trace and starts me off on a decade-spanning journey across Equestria. Ponies will actually cry if they spill their milk. Excuse me.

Makes you wonder though. With a name like Cranky, maybe my… “Mmm.” No. Those “destiny” horseapples are for ponies. And now I’m even starting to sound like one, getting all wimpy and reflective. I’ll find her. Just you watch and see.

“Something the matter?” Stardust walks alongside me as we trudge down 2nd Street.

I give her a sidelong glance, then look over at the buildings beside us. Well, how about that? “I’m going to stop inside. Wait out here.”

“Cranky.” That mother tone again. Doesn’t she have her own children she can nag?

I fix her with the look. She invited herself along today, sure, and she even followed inside the pawn shop, but a donkey has to draw the line somewhere. We hold the standoff for some time. Other ponies murmur apologies and shuffle their way around us. Let ‘em. We’re in the middle of something here.

She caves first. Doesn’t even bother to lose with dignity. Just plops her rump down on the pavement and stares out at the street. “Fine, Cranky. You win.” Bout time.

I push my way past the doorway. I usually check these little cafes and coffee shops too. That one night, so many years ago, she really loved the tea they were serving. So here I am. I’d be a foal to say it’s a solid lead, but I’d also be a foal not to check. I’ve got all the time in the world.

Eech. This one’s already done up for Hearth’s Warming. With the garlands and bells and colorful doodads and such. The snow’s not even supposed to start for weeks, last pegasi report I saw. Just another grubby store owner trying to put you in a festive mood. All the easier to drain your bit pouch.

“Hello, just a moment!” a unicorn mare calls out to me. Just a young little thing, green coat with darker mane. Probably only been working here for under a year. That just means she won’t have seen as many faces. When she turns to face me, she makes this tiny “oh” shape with her mouth. Like she’s too dainty to be properly surprised. “Oh, hello there! Sorry, it’s just, we don’t usually have too many donkey customers. Not that we aren’t happy to see you!” she quickly tacks on.

“Mmm.” I get that a lot, especially at the cafes. The little tag on the end. As though they’re apologizing for some slight. Ponies are weird like that sometimes. Whatever. She already told me what I needed to hear. “No regulars, then?”

“Old Hilbert! He’s in here on most Tuesdays.” Again, the green one answers quickly. Oh well, better than the gossipy ones. Besides, met this Hilbert fellow two weeks back, and he didn’t have any leads either. Didn’t realize this cafe was one of his haunts too. Feh. Artist types.

She’s looking at me expectantly though. Might as well nip this one in the bud. “Gotcha. Sorry to trouble you, then.” I turn and open the door back up.

“You’re… looking for somepony, aren’t you?”

Horseapples. Of course she’d ask. She’s one of those types. The ones with the eyes too wide and heart too big for their young body. If she doesn’t hear the story, she’ll just chase me down the street and hound it out of me. Trust me on that one.

Doesn’t mean I can’t go down swinging. A weighty sigh and a none-of-your-business glare should be enough to make her think twice about it. And she does, the way she blinks too much and looks at anything but me. But you can tell her mind’s still made. One more shot. “It’s a long story, miss.”

A porcelain tea set floats its way over to one of the tables in the corner. She sets down on the nearest seat cushion, gives me that soft smile ponies sometimes do. “I’m a good listener.” Well. That’s that, then. Let’s get it over with.

I tell my tale to the green one, the words well worn into memory. The invitation to the Gala. Meeting her. Sharing laughs with her. Discussing tea with her. The tea here is alright actually. Thanks to all these visits, I’ve gotten a bit of a knack for the stuff, too. Dancing the night away with her. A wonderful evening, with the promise of so much more. Going to her room the next morning and finding… nothing. The green one is a weeper, but I can’t say that surprises me. And luckily there’s the tea here, so I have something to sip while she pulls herself back together. Then I describe my journey. Broad strokes anyway. Wandering town to town. Asking the locals. Visiting hotels and coffee shops and cultural centers. Any place you might think to look for another donkey in this crazy candy-colored country.

Those all started with “c”, didn’t they? Lousy ponies rubbing off on me.

The tale always peters off at the end, but that’s unavoidable. Hard to tell a story without an ending. But the green one gets what she was looking for, and of course she’s ashamed to get it. Like if she hadn’t asked, somehow I’d be married with foals. Ponies are weird like that sometimes. But of course, she has to ask anyway, if only to say something. “So… you’ve been looking for her, ever since that Gala?”

“Thirty five years,” I confirm, finishing off my teacup with one last swig.

And of course there’s nothing to say to that. And the green one realizes it, so she stares down at her hooves and makes constipated faces until she can think of something. When the light goes off in her head, it’s visible right through her pupils. She hops up off the seat cushion and trots over to the counter. Bit of a glow from her horn, and suddenly one of the doodads is dislodged from the garland. One of those baubles you hang with a hook, red and narrow. “Here,” she says, floating the bauble in front of me. “I’d like you to have this.”

I’m not exactly a donkey with a rabid curiosity. Life has its oddities, and I’ve got more important things to worry about. But this one’s nagged at me for years, and nopony ever seems to have a straight answer. I look from the bauble to her. “Why?”

She shuffles her hooves around a bit, staring at the far corner of the cafe. Cripes, even she doesn’t know. “It, just… I don’t know. It seems silly to say it out loud, but it just seems like you need a bit of cheer. Something to remind you that there’s always a little glimmer of happiness. A reason to smile.” She really sells her argument by scuffing up the tile floor like a foal. “Even when things look down.”

So, hippie nonsense. Well, it’s certainly one of more popular answers. Better than the “you just had that look about you” destiny garbage that the shopkeeps throw at me sometimes. “Mmm.” Still though, it’s a pretty thing. And, well, frankly, I’m not so certain Fillydelphia will be worth another visit, at this point. This one might be a keeper—something to remember Fillydelphia itself by. Not like the stuff I unloaded this morning. I tuck the bauble into my sack. “Thank you, miss. It’s much appreciated.”

And of course, she lights up. Her big dopey smile comes back, because she fixed it. She made me feel sad, but she gave me something red and shiny so now I feel happy. A model citizen. “Of course, sir! Have a Happy Hearth’s Warming!”

“You, too.” The only reasonable answer.

---

Stardust is sitting right where I left her, bundled up in her scarf. Looks up as I step outside, snapped out of whatever thoughts she was having. I turn south, and soon I hear her hoofsteps following after me. We head down a few blocks, and the sign for my last errand comes into view.

Her quiet voice cuts through the chill air. “She must have been someone special.”

The regular look isn’t enough. Not for this. Wheel around and give her a full-blown glare. And the blasted pony knows the topic’s off-limits, or else she’d be able to look me in the eye.

“Ponies talk, Cranky. When a donkey goes around the city, every day for months…” Stardust finally looks me in the eye, though the lip-biting weakens it. “I’m awful sorry. I just had to see for myself.”

Well. Maybe this is more cut-and-dry than I feared. “She was. Let’s keep moving.” I do just that.

“Equestria is an awfully big place, Cranky…” Or maybe it’s not cut-and-dry. You just had to jinx it.

“I should know. Been lookin’ thirty five years, and it’d be an awful waste to stop now.”

“You must think about her often… huh?” She stays a few paces behind me, but her voice carries fine. Just a half-block to go.

“Mmm. All the time.” I give her a firm nod of the head, drive the point home. Granted, it’s not always direct thinkin’. Times where I’m on the road, or arguin’ with a shopkeep. But it doesn’t have to be direct. All of it’s for her. Every minute of every day, just to see her again. Actions count more than wishin’.

“But, what about life, Cranky? I’m sure there’s plenty of things you’re good at. Interests. Hobbies. Wouldn’t…” She falls quiet a while. Just us and our hoofsteps echoing in the streets. “Wouldn’t it be nice to stop wandering? Have a place to stay?”

Stop? I have to chuckle at that. Of course the plan is to stop, once I’ve found her. Settling down and spending the rest of our lives together. That’s why I’ve done all this, after all. So, to quit now? And go home empty hooved? Feh. What would I even do with the rest of my life? “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“I suppose I rightly don’t,” Stardust says with a chuckle of her own. She sounds tired. Or something. Been acting funny all day. “But what the hay, let me give this a shot, anyway.”

Hmm, what’s this now? I turn my head back. She’s got the same big smile she wears every morning at breakfast. Like she has some big secret she’s just dying to tell me.

“How about this?” She trots a bit faster, matches pace with me as we walk. “I’ll help you out, all next week. We’ll canvas the whole city, talk to everypony we can find, explore every lead. But on Sat—”

I shake my head. “No can do.”

She gets this pert little frown from that, like she ate a bad grape. “Cranky… I didn’t finish.”

“Won’t be here next week,” I say. “Leavin’ town tomorrow.”

She stops cold in her tracks. Sounds like she asked “What?” but the wind nearly drowns her out, alluva sudden.

Feh, figures. Ponies always make a huge fuss out of goodbyes. Exactly why I didn’t tell her ‘til now. Knowing Stardust, she’d be the type to put together some big elaborate send-off party, and I just won’t stand for it. “Mmm. Headin’ back west a ways. That’s why we’re here.” Point my nose up at the sign for the wagon rental.

“Stay.”

I frown and turn around. Don’t give her the look. It’s confusin’, is what it is. Especially after hearing the full story. But she’s staring down at the sidewalk like a filly who got caught sneaking cookies from the cookie jar.

“Please stay.”

Reason she’s got that look is because she knows how silly she’s being. “Not until I find her. Then I’ll settle down. Give ya my word.”

After a moment, she nods, still looking down like that. “She must be a very special donkey.”

“She is, Stardust. She is.” I close my eyes, and in that moment I’m swept away. Right back to Canterlot, all those years ago. Like I was there. No. Like she was here.

“I should get back to the building.” When I open my eyes, Stardust’s already making her way north, back the way we came. “Rosy will be expecting me to close up the office. We’ll see you back tonight, alrighty?”

“Mmm.” I nod on instinct, even though she can’t see. Make my way back toward the wagon rental. Surprised she stuck around for as much of today as she did, really.

---

She’s not at the front desk the next morning. Takes me a while to bring everything down to the wagon. Another set of hooves woulda been nice, but she’s my former landlady. Hauling stuff ain’t her job. Means none of her coffee, though.

Go to drop off my key, and today the blue one is there behind the desk. Wishes me well, gives me a cup of coffee and an envelope, and takes my key. His coffee is rubbish, but he’s all business. Efficient. I like that.

I carry the last box out to the wagon out front and set it on top of the heap. A wagonful of memories, collected from over half my life. The red bauble sits at the top of that box, wedged in nice and secure. Nearly time to say farewell to Fillydelphia for the last time.

Before I head out, I take a look at the envelope. Just says Cranky on the front. Looks like Stardust’s mouthwriting. There’s two tickets inside. Some stageplay from the looks of it. Unicorn on the Rooftops. Now why in Equestria would she give me tickets to a show in Fillydelphia? Told her yesterday that I’m leaving town. “Mmm.” Ponies are weird like that sometimes. Still, the show’s not until next Saturday. Decent odds I’ll run into somepony on the road, heading into Fillydelphia and willing to buy some theater tickets.

Get myself strapped into the wagon harness and then I’m moving west. Wagon’s not half bad. Frame’s solid and the axel’s well lubricated. The journey to the next town is about a week. Should get there well before the pegasi start up with the snow. Besides, it’s not that cold.