The address Amelia had received by text after the call wasn't far out of the way from the route she would’ve normally taken home. It was on the outskirts of the city and had a secluded feel to it, thanks to an abundance of trees which blocked the direct line of sight to the other nearby houses. It gave the place a very appealing sense of privacy.

 As she pulled into the driveway and stopped the car, she noticed the front door opening and someone coming out. The owner of the plane had clearly been waiting for her and keeping an eye out. She appeared to be a young woman roughly her age wearing an oversized knitted woollen sweater and loose-fitting sweatpants. Her feet were bare, and she wore her reddish-brown hair in a very long braid.

 “Hello. I suppose I'm in the right place? And excuse my lack of manners, not introducing myself on the phone – I'm Amelia Wilkins,” she introduced herself after getting out of the car and taking a few steps closer. She almost stopped mid-sentence when it felt like she was suddenly being stared at unusually intensely. And when she said her name, it almost seemed like the woman flinched ever so slightly. Amelia wondered if she’d just imagined that.

 “Rosalie. Not everyone would even have called,” said the woman. Standing under the front door's wooden awning, she hesitated for a moment, eyes still keenly fixed on Amelia – which was admittedly making the latter feel somewhat uncomfortable. “Would you... like to come in? I could make some tea. As thanks.”

 “Oh... well, I'm not in a big hurry, so that would be lovely. I was outdoors for the whole weekend, so I do still feel a bit chilly,” she explained. Despite her mild unease she didn't want to seem discourteous, and it was true – as much as she loved being outside surrounded by nature and cherished her trips, it was still always a relief to be able to go back to the comforts of civilization afterwards; the renewed appreciation for all the minor things one took for granted was just one more benefit to these outings. And it was autumn, so the nights did get quite chilly with just a tent and a sleeping bag.

 She started walking towards the house, which was a one-story brick building with an attached garage. However, much to her embarrassment, she realised that she was forgetting what she was there for in the first place and walked back to the car to retrieve the wrecked plane.

 Rosalie, who had already turned to go back in, instead stopped to wait for her at the front door. As Amelia approached, the woman’s gaze flicked to the plane for a moment. Amelia also glanced at it.

 “I think I saw you flying this as I was going past with a kayak at the start of my trip on Friday. But now I guess it has seen better days, huh,” she offered.

 “It happens.” Rosalie extended her hands, and Amelia carefully handed her the plane. Up close, she noticed that Rosalie had a lightly freckled face and green eyes. Rosalie performed a very cursory examination of the plane, absent-mindedly fingering the loose wire that Amelia had noticed. “Nothing that cannot be fixed. Thank you.” She seemed lost in thought for a moment. “Oh. Right. Apologies. Come in.” She went in first, placing the plane on top of a chest of drawers in the hallway. Without saying anything else, she walked – or more like she gracefully glided on her bare feet seemingly without making a sound – along the hallway further into the house, leaving her guest looking around slightly confused. In the end, said guest shrugged to herself, took off her shoes and coat, and hung the coat on the sparsely populated wall coat rack.

 As she walked further in, she noticed Rosalie standing in what appeared to be the living room, next to a pair of cabinets that were placed opposite the windows, showing a view of the backyard. She seemed to be lost in thought again, and it almost looked like she was... shivering? As Amelia entered the room, Rosalie seemed almost startled and looked away. Amelia wondered what was up with her all of a sudden. If anything, she'd come off as so intense while they’d been outside, but now that they were inside, she suddenly seemed very timid and outright jumpy instead. If anyone should’ve been jumpy in this situation, it was her, going inside a stranger’s house suddenly like this.

 “Hmm. Um. Just a moment.” Rosalie motioned towards what appeared to be the only chair in the room, a comfortable-looking recliner not far from the cabinets. It faced a flat-screen TV with a loudspeaker on either side. Between the recliner and the TV was a low coffee table. As Amelia sat a bit uncertainly on the edge of the chair and was just about to take a better look at the rest of the room, she heard her host take a deep, somewhat wavering breath, as if steeling herself for something. Amelia looked over at her host as the cabinet door was being opened.

 It was neatly filled mostly with various boxes, the content of which there was no hint of, but Amelia was pretty sure that, despite the invitation being for tea, none of those boxes had anything to do with that, leading her to wonder just what this Rosalie was up to. The woman kneeled and lifted one box in order to pull out another, which she then placed on the floor in front of her. It was a somewhat worn-looking woven box, about the size of a shoebox. She lifted off the lid and set it to the side. Amelia couldn't see what was inside since Rosalie was between her and the box. Fleetingly, she made note of just how long her host's hair really was – even braided, it was nearly scraping the floor as she was kneeling on the floor.

 On her knees and sitting back on her haunches, Rosalie picked something up from the box. Another deep breath, and she lowered her head, presumably looking at whatever it was she was holding.

 Amelia was starting to feel seriously confused and was about to say something when Rosalie suddenly twitched once, and then again. Amelia thought she heard... a sob? She faced Rosalie while still awkwardly on the edge of the recliner, nervously grabbing the hem of her shirt with both hands.

 “Umm... are you okay?” If anything, Rosalie seemed to shrink into herself further at the sound of her voice. Unsure what to do, Amelia slowly stood up. Then, with a few hesitant steps, she was standing next to the hunched Rosalie. Leaning a bit forward, she was about to place her hand on Rosalie's shoulder when she noticed what it was that Rosalie was holding.

 It was a Polaroid. In the rather worn-out photo were two young girls – one had slightly unruly but strikingly red hair and a serious-looking face full of freckles, green eyes looking away from the camera. The other had blonde hair worn in a ponytail, blue eyes looking straight at the camera, and a big smile on her face. Amelia felt all the strength leave her legs and, in an ungainly manner, slumped down next to Rosalie. If she hadn't instinctively grabbed Rosalie's shoulder, she might've fallen over entirely.

 As her heart felt like it was suddenly going to beat out of her chest, she stared at the photo, just like Rosalie. Another commonality was that she realised tears were starting to stream down her own face too. She felt utterly dazed. That second girl – that was her, almost thirteen years ago. As impossible as it seemed, that had to mean...

 “L-Lily...?” Amelia almost whispered in a shaky voice. “Is that... really you...?” In response, Rosalie/Lily nearly doubled over with a pained sound and now held the picture to her chest with both hands. Instinctively, Amelia reached her arms around Rosalie/Lily's trembling form and squeezed as though her life depended on it.