Breakfast - I don't have a name for this one

>You are Shimmer Light, and you just bought a pack of crayons.
>Your Blue became unusable through... completely normal circumstances... and you needed a new one.
>So you went to the market and bought as many as you could.
>You are currently walking home with a box of crayons in your mouth.
>Your carrying it in your mouth because you can't wear a saddlebag.
>Well, you don't know of any specially made for your wings, at least.
>You love your beautiful wings, but beauty can be a burden sometimes.
>A swarm of moth fillies run around a dull-looking moth mare.
>... The same swarm as usual, but they surround a different mare. This one is the stagnant brown one, the one you usually see with the tongue one.
>... Sometimes, you feel you should at least learn their names.
>... But they don't know your name, why should you know theirs?
>This time, the orange one doesn't notice you as you pass by.
>"Dandelion wishes to play Cops and Robbers!"
>One of the fillies.
>"Huh? Uh, yeah, sure..."
>The mare, most likely. She sounded like she wasn't even listening.
>Soon, the group is nothing more than a little noise in the distance.
>...
>Your trip has been one of near-silence.
>Good. You hate all of their useless banter anyway.
>Your quiet is broken by an opening door.
>The tongue one walks out of a nearby house while looking back toward... someone.
>"Well, I had fun. And remember, you can always count on me if you need..." She trails off as she flicks her tongue sexually.
>You didn't expect anything else from her.
>As your vantage point gets better, you are able to peer into the doorway, using your peripheral vision.
>No one knows if you are looking at them or not.

>The one behind the tongue one... is a mare you don't see often. She looks... regal and fancy.
>"Golden Corral, I would appreciate if you did not joke about such atrocities to me."
>Her voice matches her appearance.
>You pass by the house and their conversation becomes light teasing in the breeze.
>...
>You spot a red splotch in the middle of the street.
>... It's a moth. She's that hippie one who's always "high on life".
>Her parents probably hated her.
>You don't give her a second glance as you walk past her.
>...
>You're nearly home.
>There isn't a single pony around.
>... Your gaze fixates itself on the house next to yours.
>The door opens and out steps Hexferry.
>... How exactly did you know her name again?
>... The peach one she hangs out with probably said it at some point.
>Come to think of it, you haven't seen the peach one in a while.
>She always teases Hexferry about something.
>And Hexferry becomes a stuttering mess.
>You're glad you aren't that way.
>You'd rather die.
>Hexferry lets out a grudging sigh and begins her walk.
>Toward you.
>Well, more in the direction your in, not you specifically.
>She notices you and... slows to a stop.
>Her face shows bewilderment.
>As you pass her, her gaze sticks to you.
>You can almost feel her looking at you.
>"Crayons, really?"
>...
>You don't even react, like you didn't hear her at all.
>She isn't worth your time.
>No one here is.
>Maybe no one anywhere is.
>You get to the door of your house without even glancing toward Hexferry.
>She's probably trudging off by now, angry about being ignored.
>You have that effect one ponies.
>... You love it.
>You open the door, walk inside and shut the door behind you.
>After breaking out your brand new crayons, you proceed to draw... very poorly.
>You aren't an artist.
>... But you're still better than anyone else in this village, you're sure of that.