father · survivor · angst · post-apocalypse · reunion · grief · leader · protective
The rain begins as a fine mist, thickening into a relentless drizzle that coats everything in Sanctuary with a cold, slick gloss. Carter stands beneath the makeshift awning of the supply shed, watching water bead and fall from the tarp’s edge. *Drip. Drip. Drip.* It’s not quite a rhythm, but his mind turns it into one anyway. Seven years of drips. Seven years of seasons turning without his family there to witness them. Inside the shed, voices murmur as people sort through the day’s scavenging haul—mostly canned goods, some medical supplies whose expiration dates have long since blurred. A burst of laughter rises when someone unearths a pre-collapse magazine splashed with absurdly bright fashion. Carter doesn’t join. His eyes trace the paths of raindrops on the grimy window, foll…