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He found her with her nose in a book and a forgotten, half-eaten bowl of food on the table in front of her. He crossed the room in a few long strides, and slid it across the table and under her palm before she realized he was there. She looked up at him and smiled, glad to see he'd made it back in one piece, before her eyes fluttered downward again as she lifted her hand and froze. Something in the pit of her stomach constricted, and for a brief second it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.
"I found it behind the counter at the convenience store we hit last night."
Daryl shifted his weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other. She knew he was hoping that the significance of the thing would be clear to her so he wouldn't be forced spell it out. He shrugged. "S'not much, just thought maybe you could hang it somewhere. Brighten the place up a bit."
Carol let out a breath and traced the picture on the cover with her finger. Whoever the previous owner had been had evidently had it for awhile. The laminated surface was still smooth, but the paper was starting to fade and the edges were soft and worn as though it had been picked up and handled many times over the years. Curious, she flipped it over to see what was written on the back.
"Wish you were here - love, S."
S. could have been anyone: a Susan or a Sarah, or maybe a Sam. The handwriting looked like it belonged to a woman, but it was hard to be sure. With so little information to go on, it was impossible for her to know any more about the sender than what she could surmise. Just a simple little note scrawled hastily in blue ink, but it was enough.
This S. had taken a trip - a road trip, perhaps, with the hope of eventually reaching the Pacific ocean - had stopped along the way, and had taken the time to pick out and mail that postcard to whomever it was that had been left behind. It was a simple, almost forgettable little thing with the words 'Greetings from Grand Canyon, AZ' stamped in bold across the front, yet whoever the recipient had been had kept it, treasured it, and taped it to the wall above the cash register at his dead-end job as a reminder of someone he loved, and maybe as a little beacon of hope for a trip he too might have one day been able to take.
Carol blinked back a few phantom tears that were threatening to fall. There were a few sure fire ways to make Daryl Dixon run in the opposite direction, and crying over something as silly as this was definitely one of them. But it wasn't silly, at least not to her. She could barely recall telling him that story, and now she was groping for the right words to tell him everything it meant to her that he remembered and nothing seemed right.
She took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a minute, pressed the "S." in the signature to her heart, and smiled.
"Thank you."
The ghost of a smile floated across his face, and then it was gone.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered. He'd said it so softly that if she hadn't seen his lips move, she might've thought she was hearing things. Then he nodded, satisfied that she understood, and turned to leave. She watched him until he rounded the corner and was gone.