(I’m js making these places up lmao)

Valley felt… out of place, to say the least.

She, a half-Native raised by hippies on her grandparent’s farm, was in the City.

There was where she lived; Back O’ The Moon Island, Newfoundland, home to fishers and farmers. And then there was where you lived, Chance-Along, Newfoundland, the mainland, full of white people.

Back O’ The Moon island was on the coast, although it was high enough away from the shore so it didn’t get repeatedly flooded- although people’s fishing shack were regularly destroyed. Valley’s home was often victim to atrocious, long rainstorms- especially from October to February. It was October twenty-third, and they had already suffered through three storms.

The only way to get from one place to the other was a half-an-hour long ferry ride.

The two places were so close, yet felt so far away. Chance-Along was a quaint city with lots of cafes, antique shops, had cobbled streets and a rich history with the development of the Fishing industry.

The mainland was a tourist attraction, and Back O’ The Moon was the attached island that people didn’t visit.

You were a writer, and had also grown up in the area. You were writing a book about the history of Chance-Along and it’s forgotten counterpart- Back O’ The Moon Island.

That’s how you met, actually. You had been in the town’s bakery, chatting with the owner and taking notes. The owner of the bakery was a Native woman named Wynona Black. Her family had been on the island for generations, so she was a way to get useful, first-hand information.

Valley was snapped out of her thoughts when a bell tolled, signalling the ferry had reached Chance-Along’s docks.

The copper-haired woman stood, pulling her leather jacket tighter around herself and tucking a loose stand of hair behind an ear.

When she got onto the dock, she was greeted with the sight of you, glorious you.

You were smiling, wearing one of her flannels under your jacket, and holding two cups of coffee.