Mornings in the prison are strangely peaceful. Less so since agreeing to keep an eye on Merle after his return to the group, but still better than waking to the growls of Walkers. Something is particularly nice about this morning. It’s warm and soft, much more comfortable than the rock of a cell mattress.

It’s only when you fully stir awake that you realize that, at some point in the night, Merle climbed down from the top bunk and is holding you close to his chest.