~ The deafening roar of wheels on a track rang through the otherwise peaceful summer afternoon. The faint smell cigarette smoke and the newly blooming foliage wafted through the open windows of the streetcar. Ib watched intently as a woman's thin blonde hair danced in the gentle breeze.
She loved visiting her mother in New Orleans. She'd admit, it wasn't the cleanest or prettiest of cities, but there was something enchanting about the history of the place. She enjoyed walking through the quiet parts of the French quarter where she'd find an old Cajun couple sitting on a pair of porch chairs together, or an artist reimaging the surroundings. She did everything at all cost to avoid Bourbon Street. It gave her nothing but headaches and beer stains from drunken strangers. In fact, she didn't spend much time at all in the more commercial bits of the city.
The streetcar screeched to a stop and the door swung open with a loud thud. Subconsciously, Ib exited the car and walked through a familiar street. Like everywhere else in the French Quarter, the French-chateau style buildings lined the road. Some had hanging plants that morphed into the aged brick. Some had complacent wanderers leaning against them.
The strong scent of coffee overpowered Ib's nose, leading her through a chipped wooden door into an unfamiliar café. The décor was minimal with only a wall clock and some fleur de lis wallpaper to accompany the small tables.
No one else was there but Ib.
"Hello?" She meekly called through the deserted place.
"Hello, Ib" A voice came from behind her.
She spun around, startled.
Her gaze was met by a pair of piercing green eyes, encircled by waves of wrinkles.
"Who… who are you? How do you know me…?"
"I am Guertena, and I believe you came here seven years ago."