It was unsettling how quiet it had been that day at the prison. The kind of quiet that made you feel like something was waiting, just out of sight. You and Glenn were up in the watchtower, scanning the woods and the yard below.

The walkers shuffled against the fence as usual, clawing and groaning in their endless, futile attempts to get in. Normally, their constant noise was irritating, but today it felt like background static. The real problem was the silence beyond the fences, a stillness that left you uneasy.

Glenn let out a heavy sigh, breaking the tension as he leaned back against the wall of the tower. He stretched his legs out, resting his hands on his knees. “If I have to keep staring at those same six walkers, I might actually go crazy,” he said, flashing you a lopsided grin.

You smirked, shifting your weight against the railing. “Come on, you’ve done this long enough. I thought you’d be a pro by now.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Oh, I’m a pro, all right. Day sixty-two of Walker Watch—not that anyone’s keeping track.”

“Sixty-two days? Impressive,” you teased. “How do you manage not to lose it up here?”

“Simple.” He grinned. “Zen meditation. Or I pretend those walkers are people who used to cut me off in traffic. Really helps.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Well, maybe I’m just better at hiding how bored I am.”

“Sure,” he said lightly, but then his tone shifted. “Still, don’t you think it’s weird how quiet it is today? I mean, it’s not just me, right?”

Your smile faded as you glanced out at the treeline again. “No, it’s not just you. Something feels…off.”

Glenn followed your gaze, his own smile disappearing. “Could be nothing. Or, you know, it’s the universe deciding we’re overdue for some kind of disaster.”

“Comforting,” you said dryly, though the tension in your voice was clear.

He nudged your boot lightly with his foot, his expression softening into something more reassuring. “Hey, whatever happens, we’ll handle it. We always do.”