The kitchen was an absolute mess. An explosion of flour, icing, batter, and odd food colourings made the room look like a pastry bomb had gone off without remorse, covering everything like paint in an artist's loft. It seemed like only one place on the kitchen counter remained untouched-- The eye of the storm in this hazardous area... In the center of that isle of calm rest a single pastel yellow macaron, dressed to the nines with expert swirls of cream and icing, a small sugar star resting on the top of a tiny dollop of the sugary stuff. It seemed precious and somehow holy in this disaster of a room, and like a holy grail to the filly that was covered in confectionery war paint, slumped against the counter from her seat on the stool.
Banana Creme's shoulders shook slightly every so often, indicating that yes, indeed, the girl was crying, but the young phony was not saddened by anything this time. She was not mourning her own misdirected life, or cursing the sky for not making her any sort of special. No, this time, Creme was crying due to a revelation that had hit her so hard, it had knocked the wind out of her and sent her mind flying into a whirl of inspiration-- And she had created this... That single macaron in front of her had been the product of her own hooves. Lifting her tired gaze to the piece of edible art again, the filly's ears trembled with pride, and she let out a cry of joy that echoed through the kitchen.
She had found it. She had found the thing that gave her life absolute joy, and nothing had ever made her feel this way before. Making delicate pastries-- Little edible works of art was her absolute, true calling... And with that, Banana Creme had found her purpose, finally, and it was the most liberating moment of her life. She could hardly contain herself, but could hardly move at the same time; It felt like she was going to burst with excitement and pass out all in the same moment. 'This must be what it's like to love something with all of your heart,' she thought, her eyes shutting once again to allow her mind to rest. It seemed that she was closer to passing out than she thought she was, though, and soon she found herself drifting closer and closer to sleep. 'When I wake up... I have to give this to Mom...' A small twitch of a rare smile graced her face as she slipped into her dreamland, where the massive steel weights around her heart and shoulders lifted and disappeared with each passing breath.