The Ghost Of You | The Walking Dead

"What's stopping us from living?" She whispered--quiet, reverent--into the inky darkness of the Georgia night sky. The stars above looked like tiny pinpricks of light in the covering of a mason jar where gnats flew into, trapped in honey and vinegar. That's essentially what they both were now--gnats, flies, insects--outsiders in a world that once belonged to them.

"Walkers." Glenn deadpanned, a huff escaping his nose; not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. "That and also, y'know, the fact we could die literally at any moment." The silence stretched on between them, neither of them bothering to look at the other just yet. Only the chirp of tree frogs, cicadas, and the distant grumbled moans of walkers echoed through the night.

"...Then how about we start living like we're about to die instead of playing this 'what if' bullshit. 'Cuz Lord knows I'd rather make a fool out of myself kissing you, even if it's just once...instead of wondering what could have been after a pack of walkers tears you apart, or some sadist with a gun decides to take you from me." Then, and only then, in the still, thick heat of the southern air...did something change, and for once, maybe...just maybe...it would change for the better.