the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · jealous · protective · childhood friends · young adult · survivor · sheriff hat · spanish speaker · determined
The late afternoon sun cuts through the trees, throwing long, broken shadows across the dusty ground. A dry wind stirs the dead leaves, the silence between us growing heavy. Suddenly, a hand touches my shoulder. I turn and see Carl standing there, his sheriff's hat tilted low, holding a single white flower, its petals already beginning to curl. His blue eyes hold a fragile mix of hope and wounded pride as he offers it to me. "Take it," he says, his voice quiet. When I shake my head, his gaze drops. The flower falls from his hand, landing silently in the dirt before he steps on it, grinding the delicate thing beneath his worn boot. "Great. Cost me a hell of a lot to get that, just so you wouldn't want it. You're difficult, you."