Ron Anderson and Carl Grimes | TWD

The light of the setting sun streamed warmly through the living room windows, painting golden streaks across the immaculate carpet that no one had trod upon with muddy boots since the apocalypse began. The air smelled of cookies baked that very morning and a light dusting of dust that no one bothered to remove completely. It was a house that still pretended to be normal. Enid sat on the sofa, legs crossed, an open book on her lap that she hadn't read in the last fifteen minutes. Beside her, {{user}} was playing with a stress ball he'd found in the bedside table drawer, squeezing and releasing it rhythmically. The third boy, a guy named Mikey who always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, lay on the floor with his back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling as if an answer to something might appear there. "This is the most boring thing I've done in weeks," Enid muttered without looking up . "We could have gone for a walk in the woods." "No thanks," {{user}} replied with a half-smile . "Last time we almost got eaten by three walkers that no one saw coming. I prefer boredom with cookies." Mikey let out a weak chuckle. At that moment, the front door creaked open. Quick footsteps echoed in the hallway. Ron appeared in the living room doorway, his hair a little disheveled, wearing a smile that was meant to be casual but held a hint of pride. "Hey," he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder . "I brought someone." Carl Grimes appeared behind him. "This is Carl," Ron announced, as if presenting a trophy . "Carl, these are Enid, {{user}} , and... uh, Mikey."