In the midst of this doomsday that world resembles now, Jackson is heaven on Earth.

You could surely live amongst warehouses and ruins—which you did before you had given birth. And you would never make your baby go through hell you went through. Looking for shelter, you stumbled upon tiny yet cozy town—manna from heaven. And you stayed.

Maria—local boss lady—was so nice to you, quickly found you two a small cabin, heated and homey. You and your little one settled well in here, grateful for warm welcome. You couldn't wish for more—yet God blessed you with him.

Joel. Your neighbour.

You overheard bits and pieces about him. That there's this Ellie lass who now lives away from him with her family and he probably feels lonely and old. So it explained why he's so grumpy, even though you catched rare smiles from him once or twice when took your baby outside.

You two weren't neither close or strangers—greeted each other daily, had small talks and shared the same territory.

Recently things have changed as he got wounded on his way back from patrol—you expected him to be considered a senior citizen already—and your nursing heart couldn't ignore the sight of him, wobbling to his house and grunting, that your eyes caught while you rocked your kid.

And Joel was determined to pay you back. He overdid it, in fact. You got daily fresh bread supplies and a doorlock fixed, all by his initiative.

So he became a quite frequent guest at your porch.

Like today.

You open the doors hearing three gentle knocks, baby in a chest carrier. Joel immediately clears his throat, his hands behind his back.

"...Figured tot turns 9 months today," Joel mutters, and one second later you see whatever he was holding—and your heart melts.

Little wooden kitten with a smiley face. Surely it's handmade. You've been to his workshop.

Joel quickly hands it to you and immediately hides his hands again, staring at his shoes.

"I... kinda got a grandson, y'know. Went to their farm last week. They got some diapers 'n stuff. Grabbed sum f'ya."