midnight in the garden of eden - carl grimes

VII

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viii.

please please please let me get what i want
"lord knows it would be the first time"

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Sweat beads on my forehead, mingling with the soot smudges that streak my face. I've been trying to focus on the task at hand, the rhythmic crash of steel against anvil, but it's hard to ignore the constant presence of Lydia at the workbench nearby.

She's perched on the edge of the old, weathered wood, her feet dangling, eyes wide with curiosity as she watches every move I make. There's an energy about her this morning—enthusiastic, eager, as if she's soaking in every detail of what I'm doing. It makes me feel a little self-conscious, though I try to push the feeling aside.

I grab the blade I've been working on, turning it in my hands. It's far from perfect—edges uneven, the metal warped in places. Definitely not my best. I hold it up for Lydia to see, the light catching on the dull steel.

"It looks good." She gives her approval.

"Far from it." I say with a wry smile. "See here? If I can't get the curve here perfectly flat it'll eventually start to crack and be worthless. I'm still learning but... I'm pretty bad at this."

Lydia's eyes scanning the flawed blade with a thoughtful expression. "Well," She begins with a shrug. "Being bad at something means that all you can do is get better."

"Maybe." I say, setting the blade down with a clatter on the bench. "I just have a long way to go."

Lydia swings her legs, resting her chin in her hands. "Everyone does."

Her voice is light, almost teasing, but there's a truth behind it. She doesn't sugarcoat things, doesn't try to make me feel better in a way that's forced. Instead, she just sits there, watching, like it's enough for her to be part of this moment, flaws and all.

Before I can return to my work, I catch sight of Enid across the courtyard. She's watching us with a guarded expression, her gaze fixed on Lydia. There's something inscrutable in her eyes, a mixture of curiosity and something else—resentment, perhaps, or simple wariness. She seems detached, as though she's observing from a distance, trying to reconcile what she sees with her own thoughts.

I glance back at Lydia, who's still engrossed in watching me. There's a subtle glow of admiration in her eyes, a stark contrast to the shadow that lingers in Enid's stare. The stare I can't help but look back to with that same darkness.

Lydia follows my gaze, her head tilting slightly when she spots Enid. She says nothing, just sits there, observing the silent exchange between us, like she's waiting for something to happen.

Enid's eyes flick from me to Lydia, and then, without a word, she turns and walks away, disappearing behind one of the buildings. There's no confrontation, no conversation, just the quiet tension left in her wake.

I exhale, the noise of the forge filling the silence again. Lydia doesn't say anything about it, doesn't ask. She just watches me, her calm presence a reminder that not everything needs to be talked about right away. Some things, maybe, are better left to simmer in the background for now.

"Do you like it?" She suddenly asks.

"Like what? Blacksmithing?"

"Yeah."

I sigh, not really sure how to answer. "I mean, I wouldn't have picked it personally. But it's just one of those things. Someone's got to."

"What did you want to be when you grew up? You know, when you were little?"