Derpy wrinkled her nose and whisked her duster over the bookshelf. On the end where she kept ones she’d finished, there were few telltale tracks through the dust where she’d slid a book out and later replaced it. Some reference ones and anthologies where she’d gotten a taste for a particular short story on a quiet afternoon. Her old weather school text, her first cookbook of muffin recipes—its cover admonishing her to get a parent’s help before cooking, no less—and a whole row of biographies.

She loved history and the ponies who made it, but… living in the past had never suited her well, at least for her own life. Always moving forward. She didn’t have more troubles than the next pony, but she carried them like a heavy weight, new lumped on old. Why would she [i]still[/i] feel guilty about something inconsequential like when she broke that window seventeen years ago?

Anyway, look ahead at what’s to come: her regular card game with Raindrops, Fluttershy, and Thunderlane tomorrow, and Princess Twilight Sparkle had organized a luncheon at Sugarcube Corner for the civil servants getting promoted. Ten years on the job already. Where did the time go?

The thickest dust lay around one particular book, but she left it. For now. She promised herself she’d deal with it at last. Same as every year.

From across the room, she pulled over the recycling bin. The usual pile of—well, “debris” would describe it best—sat in the corner, and one by one she sifted through the items. Months-old magazines she’d never catch up on and had managed to live without so far. In the can they went. Some newspaper clippings. Now that she looked at them, she couldn’t remember what had interested her about them. In the trash. Except one: an adorable photo of Dinky from an article showing the students in their Nightmare Night costumes.

Nodding at the tiny stack that remained, Derpy lugged the garbage can to the door. And glanced at the bookshelf again. She could put it off until she’d finished a few more cleaning chores. She could put it off another month or so until she did her regular housekeeping again. She could put it off yet another year until the next time she threw open all the windows, unleashed the full fury of her broom closet, and got the house ready for summer.

But no. She’d let that stupid book intimidate her for far too long. Today, she’d finally be rid of it.

“You okay, Mom?” Dinky called from upstairs. She must have noticed the silence.

“Yeah, keep going on the bathroom. I’ll come up and help you in a minute.” Nothing could give her that warm, tingly feeling in her chest quite like Dinky.

Armed with that, she strode over and pulled out the book. Small, soft-cover, with a colorful illustration on the front. She plopped onto the floor and paged through it. Wonderful poetry filled it, about the thrill of flight, air whistling through her feathers, the ground racing toward her until she pulled up at the last minute. The spray of mist on her face, the taste of autumn air. And after the creation of nature, it moved on to the creation of ponykind. New life within, nurturing, a soft touch, the thrill of discovery.

Derpy grinned. She never would have expected to. And then she turned the last page. Tucked in the back: letters.

Letters going on about nothing at first, then moving on to vague compliments, then comparing her mane to most precious gold. She didn’t have to read them to remember. But the last one…

She unfolded it and scanned down the page, her eyes settling on the last sentence.

[i]I really think it would be a good idea, but if it doesn’t work out, we can always go back to being good friends.[/i]

Last sentence, last letter. Not the last time she saw him, but it might as well have been. Still, she’d ended up with Dinky, and… she wouldn’t change a thing.

Derpy walked over to the trash can, and the book hovered over it.

No. She flipped open the back cover and dumped the letters in. She didn’t deserve those, she noted with a smile, but she [i]had[/i] earned the book.

“Dinky!” she shouted. She’d love to share the way that poetry made her feel, free of what had always ruined it. “Take a break and come downstairs. I have something I’d like to read to you.”