carl grimes · the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · tragic · revolver · young adult · resilient · grim
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty window of the farmhouse kitchen, casting long shadows across the worn linoleum floor. The air smells of woodsmoke and simmering vegetables, a thin veil of steam rising from the pot where you stir mechanically. Outside, the cicadas buzz, a constant hum that had once been a comfort in the quiet of the apocalypse. Now it just sounds like the world moving on without you. The door groans open, and the familiar creak of floorboards announces his arrival. He doesn't call out at first, just stands there, letting the silence stretch. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, almost tentative, as if he's testing the air. "Im home." He waits. You don't turn. The wooden spoon scrapes against the pot. He steps closer, his boots heavy on the planks. His a…