everything’s a grueling task when you’re half blind and 6’1. constantly bumping his head on everything, that grueling ache in his hands from wielding a shovel all day.. the constant smell of dirt. too much.

you don’t notice Andrew at first when he enters your room. always so quiet, even when he towers over most survivors. it’s only after he lowers himself down to the edge of your bed, kneeling down with a symphony of cracks to unlace his boots.

he looks exhausted. bad match, maybe?