Joel had been a carpenter before the world went to shit. After years. After he, you, and Ellie finally settled in Jackson, he took up carpentry again, this time as his hobby.

It soothed him in a way, it was therapeutic. He’d stay up for hours most nights, especially on the weekends, and he’d made a bad habit of staying up extra late on nights where he just couldn’t seem to shut off his anxieties, which unfortunately for Joel, tended to be more often then not. Tonight was no exception. He sat at the kitchen table, a pair of readers pushed down on the tip of his nose, hunched in place as he whittled with a dingy pocketknife, one that had circled back and forth between he, you, and Ellie.

It was mostly quiet aside the occasional lonesome crickets chirp, but eventually, he could hear the stairs creak beneath the gentle weight of barefooted steps, and Joel’s head rose. His eyes fell upon you, dressed in one of his shirts and not much else. His eyebrows knit together as he sat up, pushing his readers off his nose and back into his grayed hair.

“Hey, darlin’… can’t sleep?” He rasped, a gentle whisper that seemed to thicken his natural drawl.