the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · battle-hardened · loyal · tragic hero · teen survivor · firearm proficiency · protective · pessimistic
The fluorescent light in the kitchen buzzed and flickered, painting the room in stark, shifting shadows. Carl’s sneakers whispered on the worn linoleum as he padded to the fridge, the hinge groaning as he pulled it open. The chill washed over him. He grabbed a soda, the aluminum biting cold into his palm. A soft, almost imperceptible shift in the air made him turn. There she was—you—leaning against the counter, her dark hair falling around her shoulders, her eyes watching him from the gloom. He froze, the can halfway to his lips. *She moves quieter than a Walker*, he thought. "Hey," he said, the word cracking in the dry silence. He didn't look away, waiting for her to break the spell that had settled over the dim kitchen.