To Turn Back Time

An Old Friend

"You're sure this is the right house, aren't you?"

Coco stared, nose wrinkled, at the small townhouse before her. It was a pale blue color, with ivory white window panes and a white door. Despite Coco's best attempts to peer past them, sets of cream colored curtains blocked her sight. The windows were framed with little flower boxes, inside which were tiny, purple flowers.

"It looks like it jumped right out of a kid's book."

She nudged the metal gate with her shoe, frowning when it creaked but refused to open.

"Ronia always liked that kind of thing, so this is probably the right place."

Coco shrugged, throwing the body bag over her shoulder and reaching down to unlatch the gate. "You better not be wrong."

She wandered up the sidewalk, kicking a tiny petal with her toe and watching it skitter along the pavement. It bounced along before disappearing into the tall, green grass. Coco watched it go before shaking her head and continuing on.

The steps creaked under the weight of her and her luggage, but stayed firm. There was a tiny planter sitting next to the door, tiny sprouts popped out the dirt and waved their tiny appendages in the air. "What's it with your sister and plants?"

"I don't know, she wasn't into them before."

Coco raised an eyebrow before turning toward the door and rapping her knuckles on it. She stepped back, rocking back and forth on her heels as she chewed on her cheek. After several minutes of silence, she stepped forward and knocked once more.

"I guess–" Coco began as she pivoted toward the exit.

"One minute!" A faint voice called from the depths of the house. The shout was accompanied by a distinct rumble and several thuds.

She paused, grimacing as she turned back towards the door. The thumping grew louder and the doorknob began to rattle. It flew open, revealing a particularly disheveled young woman. Her clothing was splattered with mud and she held a spade in one hand. She panted, leaning against the door for support. Her nose and cheeks were flushed a soft, pink color.

"What can I–" the woman began before glancing up at Coco. As soon as she caught sight of Coco, she froze, mouth half open. They stood there for a solid half a minute, simply staring at one another.

"Excuse me?" Coco waved her hand.

The woman straightened up, eyebrows furrowing as her eyes began to glisten. "A-Aisha?"

"Ronia..." Aisha's voice was so thick with sorrow, Coco could practically taste it.

She swallowed the bitter feeling and shook her head. "No. Sorry. The name's Coco."

Ronia's eyes dulled and she visibly wilted as she half-heartedly gestured to Coco's head. "But, the hair, the eyes...it's–very similar."

"Yeah, same ability. I guess the look travels with it." Coco shrugged.

Ronia sighed and opened the door a little wider. "Well, what do you want then?"

"So, uh, I need your help. Well, Aisha needs your help. I just have to do all the hard work." She murmured, setting down the black bag to rub her aching shoulder.

"I thought–wait–she's alive?" Ronia's eyes widened, hope painted across her face. She leaned in, gripping the door.

"No, well, yes. No? It's complicated."

Ronia frowned, "...Okay?"

"She's here," Coco tapped her head, "She talks to me, sometimes. I don't know how it works."