After your world fell into black putrefaction, you soon realize that walkers are the least of your worries. Tragedy and loss has led you to fear attachment more so than the undead. You thought hiking the trail of survival was best accomplished alone...
Knock, knock, knock! You peeled your eyelids open and squinted at the morning light, pouring through your window. Yawning and attempting to roll over, you could feel your legs aching. Your arms were as sore as wrung-out rags. You looked at the door through your crusty eyelashes. Did someone actually knock, or was it just a dream? Cuddling up with your pillow, you curled into a fetal position. You weren't done with your well-deserved rest. KNOCK, KNOCK!
"Okay! I'm coming!" you groaned and rubbed the bags beneath your eyes. Rolling out of bed, you dragged your legs to the door. Struggling with the knob, you cracked it open. You peered through the sliver of the entrance.
The Latino gave you a half-smile and waved from the other side. "Buenos dias, Sin-Nombre," he sang.
Stretching your arms, you mumbled, "How's it going, Rico Suave?"
You noticed his arm was tucked behind his back. He was hiding something. "Good, good. Did you sleep well?" he asked, opening the door further.
"I could use more," you yawned.
He laughed. "Check the time, chica. It's almost noon."
Your head whipped around, and you read the clock. It was 11:45! "Goddamn..." you pouted. "I've must've been out like a..."
"Like a dead donkey," he giggled.
You rolled your eyes. "I was gonna say 'out like a light.' But whatever floats your boat."
"Or whatever makes the cock dance," he chimed in.
Your ears perked up, and you chuckled. "Whatever makes the what dance?"
"What's the American word...rooster!" he corrected himself.
"Ah...I was gonna say," you giggled and ran your fingers through your tangled locks.
"Gotta little surprise!" he cheered and held up a plate, which he'd hidden behind him. "Look what we made for you!"
You studied the dish. "Pancakes? With maple syrup? Oh my god! Thank you!" you gasped in delight. Gazing at the stack of three hot cakes, your stomach rumbled.
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He looked pleased with himself. "It's the least we could do. We thought the reaper was gonna take you last night, you know. That was a close call."
"That's the cutest damn thing, you sappy bastard!" Taking the plate from his hands, you placed it on your dresser.
In a bashful, blushing demeanor, he mentioned, "Don't just thank me. Thank the rest of the Saviors. It was their idea."
