Beth sweetie, you will be missed. I didn't think she would die. Didn't think if she died, I would actually be this genuinely sad...
"I didn't have my first kiss until I was eighteen..."
He picked at the grass by his left knee, sitting cross-legged near a shallow grave.
"Didn't have ma first sip a moonshine till I was twelve..."
Her laughter rang between his ears. "Merle, right?"
His lils twitched in the corners; he chuckled, wiped his brow. "Yeah...took him two hours. Didn' wanna end up like ma dad...a worthless drunk..."
"You could never be like him Daryl..."
He grunted. "Funny...had the apocalypse never came along...yeah, I'd be like him."
Silence hung in the air, permeated by the rustle of leaves in the morning air and the soft mumur of voices; a muffled cry came from the cab of the firetruck. Maggie. Daryl rubbed his brow forcefully.
"Didn't get to go to ma school dance but I wanted to..."
"What was her name," he could see the smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
He chuckled. "She called herself Alex, pretty girl. She liked me."
Silence again. It made him grimace; he pulled at some more grass, more forcefully. Anger and sorrow made him give out jerky movements.
"Didn't love anyone till..."
"Me..."
The words brushed across his ear, so close he could swear he felt her lips. He jerked, whipped his head around. Nothing. No one was even looking at him. They weren't even speaking; had they heard him talking? No...no, they hadn't.
"She's gone...ya know."
He looked up and over, saw Maggie lingering in the shade of a fern tree. She had her hands clenched at her sides, cheeks red. He stared a moment longer then hung his head, lips trembling, twisting grass between his fingers.
"I know...I know..."
