“Ugggghhhh.” Rainbow Dash groaned from most of the way under her blanket. “My [i]everything[/i] hurts,” she complained, in a drier, raspier voice than usual. It was too early and wanting to get out of bed was hard, but the soreness was making it even harder to sleep. Also, she knew she’d have to pee soon.

The covers were all messed up in a twist, after a night filled with tossing and turning driven by restless anger. She shoved them off, leaving them in a heap at the foot of the bed. It could be made later. Maybe. If she got to it. Or not. Whatever.

She rolled off the mattress. Lying down, she had merely felt discomfort. Standing made her feel like she’d been hit by a wrecking ball. She winced. Her walk to the kitchen had a distinct limp.

The first stop was the coffeemaker.

Overexertion, she ruminated, is the gift that keeps on giving—the sweat, the exhaustion, the muscle soreness. Especially the muscle soreness. The morning after was always the worst. Only one thing helped her even want to be alive on mornings like this.

While it brewed, she sat resting her head on the kitchen table, letting tangled rainbow bedmane cover her face. Under the colorful veil, the steady, soft noise of the coffeemaker was almost relaxing enough to fall asleep again to.

Almost.

It was done just a little too quickly for her to really zonk out.

She poured jet-black liquid into a tall mug, watching it steam. This stuff wasn’t too great by itself. Usually she’d toss in about four things of creamer and plenty of sugar. Sometimes ponies who got huffy about dumb things like that accused her of having no taste, but she always countered that this was the only way coffee ever had [i]any[/i] taste.

Not today, though. This was not a cream-and-sugar kind of morning.

This was a black kind of morning. The clouds she could see through the window thought so too, in flat sheets of grey that covered the sky in a blanket of gloom. It wasn’t supposed to rain today, according to the weather schedule, but it wasn’t going to be nice.

Good.

If she didn’t get to feel nice, why should anypony else?

Especially, say, Applejack.

Yeah. Applejack definitely shouldn’t.

She glowered and sipped her coffee. It was still too hot. Untempered bitterness flooded her mouth. Even after she swallowed, it was slow to fade from her tongue.

She grimaced, then slurped down more. It was good practice for the pride she’d have to swallow when she went to go hoof over what she owed that lousy tree-kicking farmpony.

She still couldn’t believe it. A bushel of Sweet Apple Acres’ best against two dozen of Roseluck’s tastiest longstems... and she lost. She, Rainbow Dash, [i]lost[/i]!

And now she had to be seen buying flowers. Sure, they were just the eating kind, not the sappy lovey stuff kind, but it was the principle, right? Rainbow Dash doesn’t buy other ponies flowers. She just doesn’t.

Only now she does.

Well, that’s what she got for making the mistake of letting Applejack choose something that favored strength, instead of speed.

It was almost enough to make her want to accuse little miss applebucker of cheating, but she knew better. There wasn’t anything cheating about choosing the game. Getting salty like that was just being a jerk.

She was a hothead, sure, but she didn’t want to be a jerk if she could help it.

Anyway, Applejack had played just as hard for just as many hours. She’d be sore, too... and unlike Rainbow, who had the day off, AJ had to work.

So who really had the worse deal?

Just then, a beam of sunlight broke through the clouds and spilled onto Rainbow. For a brief moment, before the clouds closed again and it faded, everything was bright and cheerful.

She suddenly felt like the sun had just given her a knowing wink.

It was like Celestia herself was saying, “Sure, your morning sucks now, but it’ll pass. It’s gonna get better. Just watch.” Only Celestia wouldn’t say ‘sucks’, or talk like that at all, really. What she’d say instead would mean the same thing, probably, but a lot more formal and cultured.

But still, it made her feel better.

Finally, she couldn’t help it. A smile cracked on her face—just a little one.

Yeah.

Alright.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

Maybe that coffee could use some cream after all.