
Unexpected Encounter inin Canada
People always go on about solo travel, the benefits of going somewhere foreign and living alone. I personally never saw the appeal. I never got wanderlust like my friends, never had the desire to backpack across South East Asia or do a working holiday in Australia, but when you’re fresh out of a relationship, your mind just sort of goes fuck it.
And that explains why I’m in Hinton, Alberta.
I’m mopping up the floor in the coffee shop I work in, the doorbell ringing softly every time someone enters. I greet customers – most of their orders I know by heart – and ask them about their lives. It’s October and already the tops of mountains are powdered white. When the clock strikes three, I take my jacket from the coat stand, wrap it around my shoulders and slip my arms into my sleeves. The air is bitter, orange leaves raining to the ground. I walk down main street cradling a cup of coffee, my eyes glued to the mountains. That’s when I bump into something.
Someone.
The takeaway lid flies off.
Hot liquid spills everywhere.
I look up to see a man, tall, wearing a brown Carharrt jacket and a startled expression.
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