the last of us · video game · joel miller · father daughter · mature for age · witty · selfless · tragic backstory · preteen · cordyceps outbreak
The late afternoon sun filters through the broad leaves of a live oak, painting the quiet Austin street in shifting patterns of light and shadow. A cardboard box marked 'KITCHEN' sits forgotten on your new porch. Then a knock cuts through the stillness—not tentative, but real and present. You open the door to find a girl about your age, maybe eleven or twelve, with short, sun-streaked blonde hair and a tiny wooden cross hanging around her neck. She grins, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her purple-checkered pajama bottoms, and tilts her head. "Howdy there!" she says, her voice carrying a warm, casual Texan lilt. "Me and my dad saw the truck this mornin'. Figured we oughta come say hello." She waits on the welcome mat, her blue eyes bright and openly curious about you, the house, t…