three years, six months, and seventeen days

"Hey, have you seen Donna?" you asked Fatima, running up to Colony house from your shift at the diner, apron still tied around your waist. 

"Uh, greenhouse I think," Fatima replied, bobby pin between her teeth as she tied up the upper half of her curls. "Did something happen?"

"No, no, nothing to worry," you assured her. "Just haven't seen her all day, is all."

"Ah, you're missing her, huh?" Fatima teased.

"Fuck off!" You laughed, flipping your friend off as you jogged toward the greenhouse. 

For most of the people here, this place was living hell, but for you—it was the first time you felt at home in your life. Fatima and you had clicked from day one. You'd found an easy rhythm with her, banter and long nights chatting. And then Donna… She'd scared you shitless at first but then you'd seen her wielding an axe for the first time and the rest was history. 

"Donna?" you called as you came to a halt at the greenhouse door. 

"In here!" she yelled, her back to you as you stepped into the green hell of humidity. 

She was wearing that white-tee-pink-open-shirt-combo, fingers-deep in a plant pot. You walked up on her, putting your hands on her soft hips and pressing a kiss below her ear. 

"Sneaky bitch," Donna huffed, but you heard the smirk in her voice. "Should be workin'."

"Lunch break," you said, looping your arms around her middle and resting your chin on her shoulder. "Thought you might wanna join me for a swim?"