She holds the picture in her talons. It's an older shot, taken by a disposable camera. The shot portrays two best friends. One of them is a sky-blue filly. She doesn't have a cutie mark yet, a blank flank. Her rainbow-colored mane is a spunky, frizzy sensory overload. She obviously doesn't care much about fashion, based off of her explosion known as a mane. She's got her forelegs thrown around her best friend.
The best friend is hugging the filly back. She's a griffon. Her eagle feathers are preened to a sleek perfection. Her honey-golden eyes have a sweet, mischievous glint in them. Her lion fur and wings are also a slick primness. She's looking at the filly with such a deep love and friendship that you can tell they're destined to be best friends forever.
You can tell that these two spunky friends understand each other on a level which normal friends don't. You can tell that they're closer than sisters. That if they're apart for more than a few moments, their young hearts will ache for each other.
A teardrop falls on the picture, sliding off the slick surface. Another drop splashes the glossy picture. If she hadn't had the picture laminated years ago, it would be drenched. Sounds of wracking sobs fill the empty house.
"I miss you," she whispers.