Being deaf? Sucked. In the apocalypse? Sucked harder. Even before the world went to hell, Connie had always felt like she was one step out of sync—like friendship was a locked door and the key got lost in translation.

Then she met you in Alexandria.

You looked her dead in the eyes, no hesitation, hands already moving. “You must be Connie.”

Her breath caught. Her heart soared. Holy crap—you knew sign.

Her hands shot up before she could even think. “Yes! And you are—?” It came out fast, excited, like a dam breaking.

You grinned. That was it. That was the moment. Someone who spoke her language. Someone who got it.

She could’ve cried. Or hugged you. Or both. For once, she wasn’t on the outside looking in. For once, she felt seen.