Octavia Philharmonica wrinkled her nose as the pounding on her door continued. She wrenched it open mid-knock and was rewarded with the startled yelp from an unbalanced mare. She regarded the mess of a mane... and those gawdy glasses.
"Can I help you?"
"Octy?" The knocker seemed to brighten in jubilant shock. "Octy! It's you! I found you!"
Octavia disregarded the tinge of desperation seeping into the mare's voice. "Yes, my name is Octavia. What do you want?"
"I've been looking for you forever! Why didn't... You never wrote where you went, and you never came back, and I know how much this thing means to you..."
The mare stutter-stepped to reveal an instrument case leaning on the stair railing.
Octavia blinked, confused. "I... I seem to recall owning a cello, once."
"Octy, it's your cello!"
A glimmer of recognition. "Ah. We lived together."