The house was dark and quiet. He hadn't bothered with any lights, even though the overcast sky had led to more shadows inside the home. He just didn't feel like turning the light on. He hadn't felt much like doing anything this day, not even having breakfast earlier. More telling was the lack of desire for coffee, which was usually a morning tradition. Eric sighed and glanced at the book he had left on the coffee table the night before. He didn't even want to continue reading, and he looked away again wondering if he were coming down with a cold or the flu.
It didn't really feel as though he were sick though, more like he was lonely and depressed. The night before had been the third in a row that Aaron was out on the road, recruiting, and he was supposed to be gone for two more. This was the part that Eric hated the most; being out for several days and nights never seemed so bad when they were out there together. Now he had to wait at home, wondering if something had gone wrong.
He wrapped a throw blanket around his shoulders and curled up on the couch. In the past he could watch a movie or some mindless television to keep his thoughts occupied, but now they just raced around and went in directions that made everything worse. A sharp rap on the front door got his attention, and he sat upright as the door slowly opened.
"Eric? Are you home?" Carol peeked around the doorframe and didn't see him on the couch at first. She looked worried, a line appearing on her brow until she saw him and smiled. "Are you alright?"
He shrugged, "Fine."
She closed the door behind herself and flipped the light switch on, "You don't look fine, no offense." Carol came around the couch and sat on the other side, looking at him intently until he broke his silence again.
"Okay, I'm not fine, but there isn't anything wrong with me either." He tugged at the edges of the throw, "It's just one of those days."
Carol nodded slowly, "I think I understand. Want to come home with me? I made a huge crockpot full of soup for lunch; it seemed the thing for a dreary day like this, and Tara made a flatbread with fresh herbs. It might be good for you to get out of the house for a while."
"I'm probably not very good company. I haven't even had caffeine yet." He did look tired, but Carol laughed.
"That's okay, I know I'm not always good company and yet I keep inflicting myself on you. Rosita has discovered a way to make a mocha with the coffee machine in our house, so you can make her happy by trying it with lunch. She's been pestering us to give opinions all morning." She stood finally, offering a hand to him, "Come on, being alone and miserable isn't going to make them come home any faster. You might as well visit with friends and have something warm to eat."
He took her hand, following her to the entry but stopped to get a jacket. "I feel cold already, just from looking at how grey everything is out there. Has it rained?"
"Not yet, but it might." Carol waited patiently. "Would that make Aaron and Daryl return before schedule?"
"Not unless it rained for more than a few hours, and they are far enough away that it might not rain there at all." He closed the door behind them and crossed the porch while looking at the sky.
"Do you know where they are supposed to be? I didn't think they left plans with anyone." Carol's question seemed innocent, but there was a hint of concern that was hard to hide.
Eric shook his head, "They don't leave plans for anyone, but I'm usually around when they talk about what route they are taking and how they might pace the trip. Things like that get thrown off quickly if there is a herd of walkers, or they find someone to watch and evaluate. I could probably reconstruct their trail if necessary, but I hope it is never necessary."
It didn't take long for them to reach the other house, and then Carol was taking his jacket to put in their closet, and Rosita was offering him the mocha Carol had mentioned. Tara took his arm and tugged him into the kitchen, already talking about something she had found on a recent run. Even Carl looked up from the book he was reading to give a short wave as they passed through the living room. It was bright and warm in the house, and he found himself relaxing for the first time since Aaron had left with Daryl on their trip.
Not everyone was present, but there were enough people jostling for space and attention that he felt as though he was more a part of them than a guest. It was closer to lunch than he had realized too, and he was directed to a seat by Carol before she went to fill bowls. Michonne sat next to him, grinning at him briefly, and Tara took the seat to his other side. Before long he had a warm bowl of vegetable soup in front of him, with a slab of flat bread, a mug of mocha and glass of water. His throat felt tight as he took it all in, and wondered at the acceptance that this group of people had shown him when certain long-time neighbors still crossed the street to avoid him some days.
"You should try to flatbread. I made it myself. Carol found this really great recipe book; old Scandinavian recipes that don't require a lot of perishable ingredients. We even grew the herbs ourselves." Tara babbled a bit next to him, but he listened and smiled, and felt as though the day had finally gotten better.