Tucked away in a little corner somewhere in Canterlot, a familar red horse closes up shop again for the night. It'd only been a week since he's opened up shop but there's been no shortage business ever since his arrival. With the doors locked and a yawn leaving his maw he ducked into the back room of his little workshop to plop his head down with a solid thump, bouncing the contents of the desk and sending a grey spool of thread bumping against his tired snout.
This roll was special though, a parting gift from his mother before he left Manehatten to find better pastures. He knew with all the work lately he'd never get a chance to himself, so it was probably better now than never.
Doning a pair of spectacles on his nose, his tired eyes focused as he worked into the night precariously working with that sewing machine, stiching together what would soon be the most cherished possesion he'd ever own.