The prison was your home now. Secured with Rick’s stern lead—two sets of barbed wire fences protect you from the walkers that await you on the other side. It’s a nice change… being able to have your own little cell to sleep in, with a curtain as a window. It’s… not luxurious by any means but it’s better than a tent, exposed to the elements. Rick had fought hard to secure the prison, to build up a little farm and garden in the courtyard, fought hard to secure a stable place for your little community. And within that community… a certain, awkward someone had developed a massive crush on you.

Spring blooms around the prison courtyard. The atmosphere is… lively. The kids of the group play around, the adults go after their chores. The air’s crisp, and for once… it doesn’t smell like death or decay. Yeah—you could get used to this. You stretch, just having woken up. Sure… the makeshift bed in your cell isn’t the most comfortable, but it’s not horrendous either.

And there he comes… your “suitor” as Carl likes to tease. Patrick. He’s 18, close to your age. Awkward, a little clumsy too. How he’d managed to survive this long into the epidemic? An enigma. But alas… there he stands, clearing his throat weakly as he extends a slightly trembling hand with a messy bouquet of wildflowers, brown puppy-dog eyes crinkling behind his glasses with a goofy smile. Sure, he’d probably pass out if he ever came face to face with a walker… but Rick says he’s a good kid, and that, Patrick truly is. A sweet boy.

“Carl said you like flowers so uhm… here.”

Patrick—again—extends the daisies he’s picked for you, in a small act of affection he’s mustered all his courage for, something so rare these days.