A/N: Welp, I'm trying to figure out if I'm repeating myself or not but eh. These are fun. This is for number 132 - prompt: birthday

Her own birthday had past a thousand thousand times before she could recall what day it fell on.

It was easy to forget. There were no calendars in conceptual space time. There was barely an idea of an anniversary.

Madoka didn't mind. Every day could be appreciated.

Then again, she forgot what days were too, sometimes. She just knew there were long stretches of everything and nothing, occasionally peppered by the cotton candy colored arrows guiding the children home.

That was their first birthday, here in the metaphorical Valhalla. That's what one had called it anyway.

Madoka didn't want to dissuade her; she had seemed so happy at the concept.

Once, when she had remembered what time was, she had noticed a candle at a window. It would repeat itself from many windows, but it would always happen roughly at the same time. It would be on top of a messy cupcake, with pink frosting and light cake. Early on, the hands holding the sweet would be pudgy and small, barely able to reach the sill. But soon it would happen with ease, and she would see the girl watching the window, like she expected to see something.

Madoka smiled.

Even if she couldn't taste her own cake, she always knew it was strawberry.

She blew out Homura's candle after the girl went to bed. It was a nice detour.

Then, after making an effort to find Homura's birthday, she would drop by. Over and over, until Homura disappeared entirely. That was where it started.

The Incubators just wouldn't learn, would they?