Peace and serenity. No one could ask for anything more. Well, peace, serenity and a fishing rod. And all three are exactly what Cinnamon had on such a morning. No studies, research, responsibility or work. Just fishing. No one could say for sure how much time she had spent there fishing, or just staring off into the water, thoughts unfathomable, her expression as readable as riled water.

Of course, that wasn't to be forever. No, HE was NOT adding to her peace, serenity, an most definitely not helping her catch any fish. Or anything else.

At first, Cinnamon purposely ignored Raguna, treating him like another piece of the wharf, hoping he would just leave. After a week, she realized that he wasn't leaving. Instead, he took the lack of interaction as shyness, and started speaking to her, making pointless small conversation. She hoped then that a lack of answer would suffice, and she would soon be left to her own devices.

Of course, this was in vain.

He kept talking. And talking. And talking. 'He can't take a hint', Cinnamon thought, amused by his obliviousness. 'Perhaps I am not trying hard enough'. So, she started giving short, clipped, impersonal answers.

Wrong choice.

This only strengthened Raguna's resolve to be more social. Which Cinnamon did not want.

Not only did this young man bother her while fishing, but decided to make the best of his time either a) Talking to her while she tried to study; b) Talking to her during a festival; c) Talking to Candy and her grandfather about her, or d) farming. She preferred option d, just for the fact that he couldn't bother her while farming... unless he could magically put his farm in her bedroom. Her doubts about this were very strong, so she lost no sleep over it.

This pattern of 'interaction' continued for a the better part of 2 seasons, until one day, and the week after, Raguna stopped coming to the warf.

Of course, this started Cinnamon's brain firing.

The first day of his blessed absence, she actually hummed a small, toneless, unmusical tune. 'Something isn't right' Cinnamon mused, 'maybe I've become accustomed to his pointless conversation'.

But, by about the fourth day, she realized that she actually wished he'd show up. But, why? Sure, they were mere acquaintances, but why did she actually MISS his company? Was it just because it gave distraction to distraction? Maybe a common agreement between them (she did respect his love for fishing)? No, she realized with a sort of sick, sad feeling it was...


Cinnamon glanced up, realizing she had just spent a good hour doing something she could never remember doing before: reminiscing. She looked down at a young girl standing in front of her, holding a satchel of seeds.

"Mommy! Lookit this! Daddy says that in five days, these will be like THIS!" The girl explained, brandishing the seeds while showing Cinnamon a shape the rough size of a radish.

Cinnamon could only smile as a man in his mid-twenties came running over, looking very despondently at the seeds in the girls hand.

"Luna! I need those seeds!" The man huffed, obviously not used to chasing young children across a farm. He looked up at Cinnamon, smiled, and said "You know, you're not helping things by enabling her".

Such was life for Cinnamon.

She had her daughter, Luna, who had such a wild imagination (probably from her father), incredible intelligence (definitely from her mother), and very cute to boot (a gift from us both, Cinnamon is quite quick to say).

And, her husband Raguna. She often wondered how things worked out so well: she met him, became fond of him, and then married him. Of course, they now joke about how she used to think he was an annoyance, and how he privately though she was a bit of a freak, but it all worked out.

Perhaps, Cinnamon thought while she watched her husband and daughter wrestling over the seeds, this is peace an serenity.

So... yeah.