Piggy Figs

     Bon Bon woke up late at night. Once more, she was alone. She sniffed once, rubbing her eyes with the back of a hoof as she sat up.
     Careful. Don't look at the empty space beside you. Lyra was probably called into work. That MUST be it. Of course. There was no reason to cry. They were very much in love. So in love.
     She got out of bed, finding the room to be a mass of splotches. Bon Bon found her way to the kitchen easily despite this. It was not the first time she had made this trip.
     Her teeth gripped the handle to her icebox. A small glowbug sparked to life in its jar, illuminating the varied contents. Milk, eggs, butter, apples, cheese, a jar of pickles, leftover potato salad... It was always well-stocked: shopping kept her busy, now that she was no longer employed at Sugar Cube Corner.
     She took out the jug of milk and set it on the table. Bon Bon then dragged over a stepstool to the cupboards. If Lyra was there, she would have floated down a cup for her. Then again, if she was there, the earth pony would have cuddled with her until she fell asleep once more. Her eyes squeezed tight as she filled the mug she got down. Don't cry. Whatever you do, don't cry.
     Think about something else. So she thought back to her youth. Back then, whenever she cried to her mother about a scraped knee or a hurtful name, she'd be sat down with a cup of milk. Bon Bon would suck it up through the twists and turns of her favorite curly straw, and munch on a chewy, sugary treat that her mom had prepared.
     She was using a straight straw now, but it still brought her comfort. Her eyes wandered to the cold oven. During the day, she used it to bake filling wholesome meals. But Lyra ate like a bird. She would peck at a piece of toast in the morning, gnaw on half a sandwich at noon, and at dinner...she was rarely there. A tear fell.
     Unlike her partner, the cream-colored mare had always had a big sweet tooth. As a young filly, she'd eat nothing but candy. In response, her mother introduced an oddly flavored dish for dinner one night. After that, Bon Bon quickly found herself enjoying a large variety of foods. When she grew old enough, the secret was unveiled: the Piggy Fig, a powerful stimulant of appetites. It had been passed down from mother to daughter for generations, and now it was her turn to be instructed in their proper care and use.
     Bon Bon kept a small potted bush in the dining room, grown from one of those seeds she received so many years ago. When questioned about it, she'd claim it was purely ornamental, nothing special. She gazed at it now, considering.
     Considering what? She had no children who refused their vegetables: Lyra didn't want any. And Lyra seemed in good health, if a bit thin...then again, looks could be deceiving. Bon Bon approached the plant, her cup left half-empty. Her lover was always so busy, so busy all the time. Never finishing her meals, never thanking her for them... She plucked a small, dark Piggy Fig, careful to not taste it, careful not to pierce its tender flesh. That would not do. One by one, she filled a bowl with twenty. She would have to fix that ungratefulness with food. Bon Bon smiled. Food prepared with love.