Gnal didn’t sleep a wink. She spent the night staring out the window, awaiting dawn’s arrival. She was up and out of the house at the first sign of light. The sky was a cool amethyst purple by the time she arrived back at the Earth Summoning Sector building. She jetted inside, through the front lobby, past the rows of administration desks, and into the bare hallway beyond. Her particles were churning at full steam when she nearly phased through an abandoned cleaning supply cart.

Gnal heaved her roiling particles to a halt. The usual culprit’s name erupted from several mouths out of pure habit. “Mop!”

“Sorry! I’ll move it.” Bucket darted out from around the corner. His step lost some of its scurry when he realized it wasn’t anyone important. “Oh hey, Gnal. If you’re looking for Mop, she’s not here.”

“Ditched at the start of her shift.” Lawyer came waltzing out of a private office drinking coffee from someone else’s mug. The words ‘Best Mom’ were embossed in bold letters on the front. He took a loud sip, adding. “Heard about the summoning. I thought Jehty Wetty sent you home already.”

“He did. He said I could come back in the morning to collect my things.”

Lawyer glanced at the watch on his wrist which, given its size, was also not his. “Look at that. It is morning! All six minutes of it so far.”

“Jeht didn’t specify how early.” Thank goodness, too. Gnal had already wasted so much time. Her plan so far was to retrieve her travel card and attempt to repair it. For that, she needed to get to her office. “Well, I should be going.”

“Hold on, I’ll go with you. I left an incident report in there earlier, before I realized you’d been sent home.” Bucket wrangled the cleaning cart into position and then paused, as if only now remembering something important. “Actually, I’m not sure who I’m supposed to give it to. You’re the only manager that doesn’t bite my head off when I walk in uninvited.”

“Told him it was a waste of time,” Lawyer said with a scoff. “Nobody’s gonna listen to a goblin.”

Bucket spun around with his clawed hands raised high above his head. “We saw the wall open up, Lawyer!”

“We think we saw the wall open up,” Lawyer corrected.

“Something passed through!”

“Again, we don’t know that for sure.” Lawyer took another casual sip of someone else’s coffee. “Could have been a gas leak.”

Gnal’s swishing tendrils propelled her closer. “What’s this? Can you start from the beginning, Bucket?”

“Lawyer and I were in the breakroom–” Bucket started.

“Allegedly.”

“–when the wall opened up. Sort of like the way you portal, but different. Lawyer and I did the sensible thing and hid, of course. Just as I was ducking under the table, I saw something pass through out of the corner of my eye. Two somethings, actually,” Bucket explained. “The hole was already closed back up when we came out from under the table. I checked it myself. It was as if nothing had happened at all.”

“Did you get a good look at what passed through?” Gnal asked.

“Not really. One was small and the other was kinda pink and wrinkly.”

“Objection!” Lawyer said.

Gnal waited for Lawyer to finish his statement. A total of eight seconds passed before she realized the goblin had no intention to. “Objection to what?” she demanded.

“Unreliable witness.”

“The witness was Bucket! You were there!”

Lawyer took another long draught of coffee and smacked his lips. “Exactly. I know firsthand how unreliable we are.”

Gnal knew when to throw in the proverbial towel. Why she’d waited any longer than necessary to do so was the true mystery. “Don’t bother with the report, Bucket,” Gnal said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks, Gnal!” Bucket steered the rickety cleaning cart in the opposite direction. Its wobbly wheels clattered noisily against the tiled floor as he raced away. “If you see Mop before I do, tell her she’s a crusty booger for me, will ya?”

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“I, uh…sure.”

Lawyer followed Bucket at a leisurely pace. “See you in two months, boss.”

Gnal waited until the pair were out of sight before picking up speed again. She found her office as she’d left it. The desk was on its side with paperwork scattered all around. Bucket’s report was in the ‘to file’ basket on the floor.

What to do? What to do? What to do?

The good and ruly thing would’ve been to file it to the correct department. But Gnal didn’t want to do the good and ruly thing. That was an eldritch abomination’s way of thinking and look where that had got her. Here!

An idea wriggled free from the tangle of frenzied thoughts clouding her mind. Alright then, what would a goblin do?

Gnal froze. She tried to think like a goblin. What would a goblin do? Better yet, what would Mop do? Tentatively, Gnal reached for the report. She stared at it for several excruciating seconds before coming to a conclusion. Stifling a whimper, Gnal folded the report into a tight square and then, making sure no one was watching, ate it. It tasted like paper and ink, with a lingering aftertaste of peanut butter fingerprints.

Forcing the last of it down with a dry swallow, Gnal snapped her travel card from the floor and hurried home. She swept along the hallway, out the front doors, and into the air. Gnal rode the wind currents above the city like a low-hanging cloud, reviewing The Rules as she went. The regulations specifically stated that living organic matter from Earth was not to be brought into the Void. It failed to mention whether or not living organic matter could bring itself to the Void. Technically, it wasn’t a violation of anything but the laws of probability. Maybe sanity.

Gnal suddenly didn’t care about either.

She arrived to find her house still standing. Panic rippled through Gnal’s tendrils as she passed through the domed walls. The inside of the house was quiet. The lights were off and nothing was on fire.

Too good to be true, she realized. They weren’t here. The crush of disappointment deflated her like a popped balloon. Her miserable particles were already pooling across the cold tile when she heard a clatter from the kitchen.

Gnal unpuddled herself from the floor. “Mop?”

“Oh hey, Gnal.” The goblin in question stepped out from the kitchen to greet her. Mop didn’t appear to have aged significantly during her time on Earth. The same could not be said for her sense of fashion. Mop stood drinking a glass of warm milk, wearing a frilly-collared nightgown with pink bunny slippers.

“You’re here!” Gnal swept Mop up into her tendrils and whirled in excited circles. “And you’re not old! Or dead!”

Mop’s dark hide took on a green tinge as her milk and slippers went flying. “Why are we spinning?”

“Sorry.” Gnal promptly set Mop’s bare feet back onto the floor. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

“Ha! Like you could get rid of me that easily.” Mop straightened the wrinkles from her nightgown with a firm tug. “When you didn’t show up at seventeen days, three hours, and eighteen minutes on the dot, I figured something had gone wrong.”

“How did you get here?”

“Lil Gramma, of course. She’s a bit of a natural with all this world hopping stuff. Takes after you, I think.”

“Humans can’t travel interdimensionally. They’ve only even been able to move other things from point B to point A.”

“That’s not true, actually. Lil Gramma pulled us through using a portal, after all. Thing is, no human in existence has ever opened up a doorway to the Void and thought to themselves ‘Gee, I should go visit the realm these monsters keep coming from. That’d be a real hoot!’ They’ve been too scared to try it this whole time.” Mop added with a shrug, “Turns out, they just needed a push.”

Gnal feared Mop’s choice of wording was not metaphorical. “Please don’t tell me you pushed an elderly woman through a portal.”

“It was more like a gentle nudge. There might have been a kick or two involved but, again, gentle ones. Anyway, we’re both fine. Thanks for asking.” Mop gazed up at Gnal with an expression of genuine concern. It wasn’t a natural look for her and kept trying to slide off her face in protest. “Everything okay with you?”

Gnal told her what happened.

“Two-month sabbatical, huh?” Mop said when Gnal was finished. “How long is that on Earth?”

“Sixteen years.”

“Well now, I can see why you’re so bothered.” A familiar, needle-toothed smile split Mop’s leathery face. “That’s a lot to pack in a single bag. Don’t know how you’re going to choose between your favorite pens.”

Gnal’s entire vaporous body tilted to the side, confused. “Am I going somewhere?”

“We’re going home, duh. All of us. You’re not the only one who can portal now, you know.”

“Home.” Gnal liked the way the word rolled off of her tongues. She’d spoken it before, countless in fact, but it’d never felt as right as it did now.

Unlike Mop, Gnal would have to return to the Void eventually. An eldritch abomination couldn’t stay on Earth indefinitely, but sixteen years was nothing to a cosmic horror. She hoped it wouldn’t fly past too quickly.

Gnal floated to the living room and found Gemma sound asleep in the chair by the window. Mop wandered in and leaned against the doorframe. The morning sky had shifted from amethyst to periwinkle. Light seeped in through the window shades, painting the room in the ethereal hues of early morning sunlight. For the first time in Gnal’s long, long existence, everything felt right. Contrary to what the dictionary insisted, home wasn’t always a place. Sometimes home was people. And somehow, someway, through the strangest of circumstances involving babies, goblins, and grandmas, Gnal had found hers.

“Mop?” she said.

“Oh, come on. Don’t ruin the moment.”

“I just remembered something.”

“Gnal, I swear, you say somethin’ sentimental right now, and I’m gonna clock you.”

“You’re a crusty booger.”