Gnal was woefully unsurprised to find a goblin in her office the same time the following week. Worse yet, it was the same goblin, with that same mischievous smile, laden with a collection of pens that probably belonged in an evidence locker. A stolen pen was an unworthy pen. Even on Earth, Gnal always made sure to leave something of value on the counter as payment. Diamonds, rubies, unpopped bubble wrap – all things humankind coveted the most.

“Hello, Gnal. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but–”

Gnal spun around and slammed the office door. “No.”

And that was that.

Until the following week, of course, when it happened again. As well as the next week, and the week after that. Each time, Mop grew more dejected. By the end of the month, she was a dismal shadow of her former self. The little goblin dragged her feet from one cleanup to the next, too glum to crack a joke. The change in behavior affected the quality of her work. For the better, oddly. Upper management even awarded her employee of the month. Gnal knew something was seriously wrong when Mop accepted the plaque without a word, neglecting to burn the whole wall down in protest.

On the fifth week, it was Gnal who sought Mop. The goblin was restocking supplies in the janitorial closet when Gnal floated in. “You should be clocked out by now,” Gnal said.

Mop kept stocking items onto the shelf with the enthusiasm of a damp sponge. “I did.”

“But you’re still working.”

“What’s the point of going home? It’s not like there’s anything for me there.”

“Ah, well, I’m glad I caught you.” Gnal’s particles took on a pink hue, announcing her embarrassment to the whole dimension. Thankfully, apart from them, the janitorial closet was empty. Everyone else had already gone home. A part of Gnal wished she’d done the same, but here she was, making a bumbling fool of herself for the sake of someone else’s feelings. “I’ve had time to think about it and I realized I was too harsh on you before. I’m sorry.”

Mop had the wrinkled expression of someone not used to receiving many apologies. She didn’t know what to do with it, let alone trust whether or not it was genuine. After a few pained seconds of deliberation, a spark of Mop’s former self return. The goblin tossed a bundle of towels back onto the supply cart and placed her hands at her hips. “Sorry enough to take me for a visit?”

“Yes.”

“Phew! I’ll tell you, Gnal, that’s a relief to hear. I’ve been feelin’ so blue lately that management started to feel sorry for me. Offered me a promotion and everything.”

“Really?” Gnal summoned the portal and drifted inside. “Congratulations.”

Mop’s voice took on an echo as she followed into the rift. “Oh no, I’m not taking it. Not anymore. Nobody’s making a respectable member of society out of me, certainly not with some pity promotion.”

The house had aged considerably in the span of five weeks. The stark black paint was chipped and faded, there were leaves in the rain gutters, and the yard was more forest than lawn.

“I suppose taking care of a baby does mean some things go to the wayside.” Mop’s gaze traveled the unkept property. “Like the garden, the roof, that feral pack of goats over yonder.”

Gnal was too focused on the erratic blip in the sky to pay any mind to the goats. “What’s that?”

Mop squinted at the speck. “A bird, maybe?”

“I don’t think birds move like that.”

“Giant mosquito then, I dunno.”

Gnal and Mop watched the curious shape zip along the sky, lancing from one white, cottony cumulus to the next, tearing holes in each drift of cloud as it went. And then, without warning, the nose of the giant mosquito dipped. It plummeted, gaining speed until it was nothing more than a hazy blur of movement. Gnal half expected it to erupt into flames. Just as it was about to strike the ground, the mosquito changed trajectory, and landed with a thump on the roof. It bumped and bashed, upsetting loose shingles left and right, and skidded to a successful stop mere inches from the chimney.

Stolen novel; please report.

“It’s not a mosquito at all,” Mop said. “It’s a girl! On a broom.”

“What’s left of a broom,” Gnal helpfully contributed.

“I didn’t realize Lil Gramma had a big sister.”

The front door swung open and shut with a slam so forceful, the bones of the house trembled in panic. The trembling intensified at the harsh sound of Ursula’s voice. “Gemma Hildegard Woodburn! You get down here right this instant, young lady!”

Fortunately for Gnal and Mop, there was no need to duck for cover. Considering the wild nature of the garden, it would have taken more effort to be seen. Mop still ducked out of habit. “Did she say Gemma?”

Gnal was presently more concerned about the use of ‘young lady’.

“Be right down!” The young lady on the roof grabbed what remained of her broom and jumped. She didn’t drop so much as she glided. Gemma swooped in slow, delicate circles until her feet touched the ground, landing as light as a feather. She released the broom and threw her hands wide. “Tada!”

Ursula tapped her foot, unimpressed. “How many times have I told you? You’re not ready to drive.”

“But I am!” Gemma protested. “Didn’t you see me?”

“You’re only twelve years old!”

“You learned to drive at that age.”

Ursula crossed her arms. “It was a different age.”

Gemma mimicked the older woman’s stance, folding her arms even tighter, as though it was a contest. The accompanying roll of her eyes looked to be well-practiced. “Yeah, the age of dinosaurs, maybe.”

Mop’s ears flattened against the back of her head. Her eyes were so wide her pupils resembled tiny pinpricks of darkness amongst a sea of magenta. “Twelve?” Mop whipped her head around at Gnal. “How can she be twelve? She was only a baby last we saw her!”

“Oh dear.” A swell of numbers swept across Gnal’s mind. She multiplied and then divided, checking the accuracy of her work before arriving at a grim conclusion. “I…I think Earth’s time moves faster than our own.”

“What?”

“It’s called time dilation,” Gnal explained. “Think about it. Each time we’re called in to handle a cleanup on Earth, a job can take hours, sometimes half a day. But when we portal back, the clock’s barely changed, as if we were only gone seconds.”

“For real?”

“Yes. I did the calculations. Math doesn’t lie.”

“Just one more reason to hate math!” Mop wailed. She took her hands and clutched the tip of each ear and pulled, managing to look both miserable and absurd simultaneously. “How much quicker does time move here?”

“A week in the Void is the equivalent of two Earth years.”

For someone who hated math, the goblin was able to complete the equation rather quickly. “That means ten years have passed since our last visit.”

Gnal’s incorporeal shape bobbed in the air, mimicking the nod of a head. Gemma and Ursula still argued across from them. Thelma came out and joined the fray. There were lots of gestures and animated arm movements, but Gnal couldn’t make out what was being said on account of Mop’s own rantings.

“Ten years, Gnal! We missed the formative years! Lil Gramma’s practically grown now.”

“On the bright side, she’s still alive.”

Gnal had hoped pointing out something positive would temper Mop’s downward spiral. It didn’t. In fact, it was the equivalent of adding lighter fluid to a roaring fire and then, just for good measure, a handful of angry fire demons as well.

“That’s it! We’re taking her home with us,” Mop announced as she started off in Gemma’s direction. “I will not tolerate any more of this time dilapidation!”

“Dilation,” Gnal corrected as she wrapped her vaporous coils around Mop’s body and pulled her back. “And no, you will not. That is a direct violation of The Rules.”

Mop squirmed like an eel slick with melted butter. “I don’t care!”

“Easy for you to say. You’re the one who loses their interdimensional travel privileges if we’re caught, are you?”

Reluctantly, the little goblin quieted down.

Gnal didn’t dare let go, not yet. At least not until she was convinced Mop wasn’t going to do something rash the moment she was set free again. “You can’t take her back, but we can still visit. I’ll take you every week.”

“She’ll be a teenager next week,” Mop sniffed.

“Better her a teenager than us in jail.”

“Fine.”

“You have to promise me one thing first.” Gnal swiveled the goblin around until they were eye-to-eye. Being an eldritch abomination, Gnal obviously had the advantage, with her twelve hundred to Mop’s pitiful two. All forty-two mouths spoke in unison, ensuring the gravity of Gnal’s words were felt to the fullest. “Do not ask me to bring Little Grandma back to our dimension ever again. This is her home and I will not help you remove her from it, no matter the circumstances. Do. You. Understand?”

It was like watching a heart shatter into a thousand pieces. Lower lip quivering, Mop screwed her eyes shut and nodded her agreement.