“Daven … port, I--” The librarian's assistant – Spike, I think his name was – throws the door open, panting, leaning on the frame for support. As I turn to face him, something deep within me flares to life. Before me stands a pony (dragon) in clear need of some quality rest and relaxation!

I stand up straight and don my warmest smile. “Welcome to Quills and Sofas, Sonny!” 

This is my [i]calling[/i], my passion, my mission since I was just a colt! “We've got the widest selection in town. Everything from futons to love-seats, even a few couches!”

Bringing comfort to tired hooves, aching backs, and weary souls wherever I might find them – what could be more important? I wrap a foreleg around my customer's shoulder and direct him onto a plush chaise-lounge. “Got just what you need, friend. A fresh shipment of fainting couches arrived just last--” 

“I'm actually just here for a quill, Davenport,” Spike interjects, having caught his breath, “and I need it quick, before--”

My smile now feels a little forced. “Sorry, Junior. All out of quills 'till Monday.” 

I can't help but allow a drop of hope to bleed into my voice. “Need a sofa?” 

[hr]

The dragon left after that. "But the store is called [i]Quills[/i] and Sofas," he said as he stormed out of the door.

I finally allow myself a sigh as I descend the stairs leading to my basement warehouse, flipping the light switch as I enter. Walking towards the back, I pass by row upon row of shelves laden with fresh boxes of quills, many still sealed with strips of shining packing-tape. All of these arrived last week and will be replaced the next; the stationery market in Ponyville is a lucrative one, due in no small part to the town's most recent arrival, and I make a good living. 

Yet, a part of me feels empty as I gaze toward the end of the room: dozens -- hundreds -- of pieces of faded furniture, pushed up against the back wall, left to gather dust. Sadly neglected, but never forgotten. "Quills and [i]Sofas[/i]," the silent crowd says. An accusation. 

It seemed like such a good idea at the time. Everypony needs a place to unwind after a long day's work, to chat with friends, to read a book. Everypony needs quills and ink and paper, to write letters, to take notes. How could a venue that made all of these available in a single, convenient location [i]not[/i] be a success? Yet, excepting the regular patronage of the local drama-queen, this store might as well have been named...

No. I stomp a hoof. Quills [i]and[/i] Sofas. It didn't [i]seem[/i] a good idea. It was, still is, and always will be a good idea. A perfect idea. Ponyville's citizens need me, whether they realize it yet or not, and I shall not fail them.

I look to my flank. 

They'll come around.

[i]Quill and Sofa [/i]

Some day.