She's Not Real (FR One-Shot)

>Day 34 on Earth.
>The morning sun shines through the window, prodding you awake.
>You blink a few times to adjust.
>The world is bland. Normal. Colorless.
>It's been like this for a bit now.
>Sometimes you still feel like you might open your eyes to that pastel world.
>That you'd go back to life as it was.
>But it seems like the real world is where you'll stay after all.
>"Good morning, Anon~"
>You stare at the ceiling.
>...Well, time to get the day started.
>You head to the bathroom.
>Shit, Shower, Shave.
>Brush your teeth, get dressed for work.
>You enter the kitchen for your morning coffee.
>Your eyes snap to the dining table.
>There, sitting on the table, on one of your plates, is a freshly made serving of omurice.
>A heart of ketchup adorns it.
>"For you, Anon~"
>...
"Man,"
>You think aloud.
"Must have left this out last night. Silly me. Can't be any good anymore, though. Shame."
>You pick up the plate and slide the still-warm omurice into the trash.
>You grab your bag quickly and stride to your car.

>You clack away at your keyboard, organizing the spreadsheet as efficiently as you can.
>It's been a long, long time since you did this, but even out of practice, it only took you a week or so to get back into the swing of it.
>Your job has a nice repetitiveness to it.
>You sit in your cubicle, you get the work done, you take lunch, you pretend to work till you leave, then you do.
>It's been nice slipping back into the routine.
>If only...
>"You look so cute over your computer, Anon~"
>Your eyes laser focus onto the screen.
>Laser focus.
>This spreadsheet's done. On to the next one.
>You do this unblinkingly for hours.
>Your boss swings by.
>"Hey Anon," she greets, knocking on your cubicle.
>She has a coffee in her hand and a smile on her face.
>Sympathetic.
>You tear your eyes away from the screen, leaning back in your chair and running your hands through your hair.
"Hey Lisa."
>"How's everything going?" she asks.
"Good! Good. I'm fine. Very productive today."
>"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
>She stands there for a moment.
>"Okay, well if you ever need anything, please let me know."
"Of course."
>She smiles, then turns around to walk away.
>You immediately snap your eyes back to your computer.
>"...Are you sure you're okay?"
>You nod.
"I'm fine Lisa, I promise."
>The woman stops herself and turns back around.
>"...I'm sorry?"
>...Your blood freezes.
>"Sorry, did you say something Anon?"
>"Yeah Anon~, did you say something?~"
>You can feel a hoof on your shoulder.
"No! No. Sorry, nothing!"
>Lisa stares at you for a second, then steps back over.
>"You know Anon, it's barely been a month since you woke back up. Are you *sure* you're okay being back here?"
>You let out a breathy laugh, trying your best to force the anxiety back down.
"...I promise. I'm just a little tired."
>You smile at her, as genuine as you can.
>She looks back at you, smiles in return, "...Okay." Then continues walking.
>You watch her leave, heart racing.
>You exhale sharply, then redirect your attention back to your work.
>Spreadsheet, email, spreadsheet, email.
>New email.
>You click it quickly.
>It's from an address you've never seen, outside your work organization.
>[no subject]
>"Are spreadsheets your fetish, Anon~?" it says.
>You stare at the email for a half second too long.
>"Well?~"
>You force a laugh.
"Damn spam messages,"
>You say, just loud enough.
>Into the trash it goes.

>"How have things been since last week?" Dr. Sanders asks.
>You sit on the comfy chair across from him, trying your best to relax.
"You know, same old same old. I think I'm finally settled back into my routines."
>"That's impressive," the therapist praises. "Most people in your situation would be out for months."
>He scribbles something down.
>"How has the anxiety been?"
>You twiddle your thumbs.
"Pretty much gone!"
>...The doctor looks at you.
>"That so?"
"Yes sir."
>He pauses for a couple of moments.
>"It's not good to lie, Anon~"
>You keep your eyes locked to the ground.
>You focus on your breathing.
>You flick your eyes to the side for a split second.
>Juuust a split second.
>Long enough to catch the yellow and pink floating dangerously close to you.
>"You know," Dr. Sanders starts, "I keep noticing you glancing to the side during our sessions. Like you're looking at something."
>You stare at him, unmoving, then shrug.
"I mean... I mean, I dunno. Am I?"
>"You are." He taps his pencil on his notepad, then leans forward. "Anon, I can't help you if you don't help me help you. You need to tell me everything that's been happening since you woke up."
>He looks you over.
>"It's impressive to reintegrate so fast after a coma, but if your mind is lagging behind your body, it's a recipe for disaster. You need to be honest with me..."
>He pauses one more time.
>"Is everything okay?"
>You hear the wingbeats in your ears, just feet away from you.
>You can smell her clean fur.
>Her teal eyes drift past you.
>You rub your hands together, then, with a smile, you shrug, hands up in the air.
"Nothing's wrong, Doc. Couldn't be better."

>You brush your teeth.
>It's a worknight, after all.
>Gotta be well-rested for those spreadsheets.
>You rinse your mouth and spit out the water.
>You walk past and ignore the yellow p0ny sitting on your toilet, wiping your face with your bath towel.
>You make the rounds around your apartment, locking your door and turning off all the lights.
>You settle into bed, staring at the ceiling for a few moments, then close your eyes.
>It's quiet.
>All you can hear is the soft sound of cars down on the street.
>All you can smell is your clean sheets.
>A weight presses into your bed.
>"Goodnight, Anon~. See you tomorrow~."
>You say nothing.
>You ignore the shuffling of the sheets next to you.
>Everything's fine.
>Everything's normal.
>If you want life to return to how it once was...
>...You can never acknowledge
>Fucking Fluttershy