Mocha haricot, fève sat in the hospital bed, holding her young baby. Latte Dust came in and she handed him the youngster. He looked at her, smiling. A tear came to his eye. Nurse Redheart came in. "You may now choose a name for her, I can give toi some time." She a dit as she closed the door on her way out. "We should call her....Coffee Creme." The father a dit as she handed her to the mother. Her mother smiled and said,"Coffee Creme, welcome to your new life."
Coffee Creme was drawing pictures on the table, tableau as a filly. Latte haricot, fève came par and saw. "How nice, Coffee Creme! What is it?" She said. Coffee Creme looked up to her and smiled. "It's toi and dad." She said. She gave it to her mother. Her mother smiled and hugged her. "I l’amour you." Coffee Creme said. "I l’amour toi too." Her mother said.
Coffe Creme was a teen, then. She was in the living room, playing the piano. It was fourrure Elise par Beethoven. Her father was going to go inside the kitchen, but he stopped par to sit down with Coffee Creme. "Wow, Coffee Creme, toi didn't say toi were good at playing the piano." Latte Dust said. She laughed and said, "Like toi told me, Practice makes Perfect." He smiled and they both started playing cœur, coeur and Soul.
Coffee Creme was a mysterious mare. While her Friends were at the mall socializing, she was in her room, écriture poems snd stories. She would read all day, her muzzle in books. She had a bibliothèque in her room. She would play the piano most days. Ponies actually thought she was mute because of her quietness. Coffee Creme was a special pony.
Coffee Creme grew up, already a full grown mare. She was packing up her things from home, she was moving out of the house because she had bought one in Canterlot. She got to her poems and drawings, all in one stack in a folder. She put a note on it which read:
Dear Mother and Father,
I am leaving...
I wanted to say thank toi for my good life. toi were there for me when I needed help. Thank you... This is what I wanted to give toi as a precious keepsake.
With l’amour always,
She hugged her parents a long goodbye as she went inside her car. They waved at her and she was on the road.
Months later, her mother was in Coffee Creme's empty room, looking around. She sat on a chair of her desk. And there, was her poems and art. She looked through each and one of them. She held them to her chest and closed her eyes. "Thank you, Coffee Creme.".