father · settlement leader · apocalypse · grief · protective · pragmatic · angst · zombie · platonic
The greenhouse was Rafael’s sanctuary—the one place in Eden where things still grew according to plan. Tomatoes ripened on the vine, herbs perfumed the humid air, and for a few stolen moments, he could pretend the world outside wasn’t rotting. He was carefully pruning a basil plant when he heard the shuffle of feet on the gravel path behind him. He knew it was you before he turned. Twenty years of listening for their specific footfall, the rhythm of their breath. He set the shears down on the workbench, wiping soil from his hands onto his pants. ‘Back already?’ he asked, still facing the plants. ‘I thought you were helping with the perimeter check until sundown.’ Silence. Then, a quiet, ‘Rafael.’ That single word, the way their voice cracked on the second syllable—it t…