Nowhere to go.

There was nowhere to go from here; he was going to find me. I had been too loud and clumsy not to be noticed by now, knocking over a pot of pencils as I hid behind the desk. The only time I ever heard him was when the floorboards creaked under his shoes, but we had been here before, and his steps were almost silent now. My heart was pounding in my head, as I listened out for his footsteps.

Nothing.

On my left was a wall, meaning the only way I could get out from behind the desk was to leave the way I ran over, but he would see me. He was probably waiting for me to try and make my move. I couldn't wait here much longer. It wouldn't take him long to realise that I was trapped here, and he would be working his way over to me any second. I had to try and run, or he would get me. There was no other option, not if I wanted to get out of this alive.

I slid back towards the edge of the desk, my back lying against a wooden chair that was hidden underneath. Still, it was silent. Clutching the weapon in my hand, I turned my head against the desk, pushing myself forward to peak around the corner.

My head snapped back so fast that I almost knocked it against the desk. My heart pounded in my chest, and I breathed out slowly. I saw him, only for a second. His head ducked back down, and he was completely concealed by the shelf that had been pulled out from the wall.

He knows! He knows where I am!

There was no other option, I had to move. The longer I waited here, the easier of a target I would be. Why did I keep doing this? I always managed to get myself cornered.

A door was no more than ten metres to my right. If I could get across the room without getting hit, I'd be able to use the door as cover. If things got really bad, I could just leave. It was a simple enough plan to execute, the only problem was that he was armed with the same thing as me.

Before I could even begin to make my move, he stepped around the corner of the desk and started firing at me. I covered my face with my arms, guarding myself from the threat of incoming projectile staples.

"Glenn!"

"I won, I won!" He chanted.

"I was so quiet!"

"I know, it was hard to find you," he grinned. "But I did, and you lost."

I crossed my arms. "Very mature."

"Aren't I?"

I could tell that he was going to continue celebrating, a huge grin on his face told me that. He jumped around when he heard the door open, holding his hands behind his back with the stapler in one of his hands.

Maggie walked around one of the shelves. "There you both are. What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing," me and Glenn said at the same time.

Maggie cocked an eyebrow, "Nothing?"

"Nope. Not a thing," Glenn nodded finally.

He shook the hand behind his back, bringing my attention to the stapler. Shaking it again, I realised he wanted me to take it from him, so I did, grabbing the stapler and putting it in my back pocket, along with the one I had in my hand.

When the stapler was out of his hand, he walked forward and gave Maggie a hug and a kiss on the cheek. I bit the inside of my cheek, turning and waiting awkwardly until they were done. My head tilted and I read the titles of the books across the room.

"We should get going," she told us, and I realised it was safe to look back at them. "Remember, we have the run to the garage. You asked for it, Ace."

"I didn't realise that was today," I frowned

"It was in the meeting," Glenn reminded me.

It was? I had been at the most recent meetings, but the one thing I remembered about them where that I didn't remember shit. For the past three months following Michonne's coming and going, most of the meetings left me bored, and I often zoned out or never felt present while I was there.

"Oh, sorry," I shrugged. "Must've missed it."

Embarrassment followed.

I only wondered why I was even still on the council.

"Well you can hang back for the day," Glenn suggested. "

"No, I'm good," I shook my head. "I can do it."

"Get your things," Maggie nodded. "We'll be outside. Everyone is packing the car now."

I went to the cell block first, grabbing my yellow bag and water bottle, the only things I needed that weren't on my body. I glanced around my room, one last time, seeing nothing else I needed, and turned out to make my way outside.

Isaac was in the common room, drawing or working, I couldn't tell. He had his brace taken off a little while ago. I don't know how I managed to get his attention, but as I was walking past, he looked up and gave a small smile. His eyes trailed down, seeing the holsters and weapons.

"Heading out?"

I wondered how he could tell, I wore my holster and weapons around the prison. Maybe I left the axe and gun around if it would get in the way of me working, but I often had my weapons around. Always, in case the Governor came back.

Then I realised that he kept track of supplies, made lists for runners and kept track based on what Hershel told him after the meetings. If this run did come up in a meeting, then Isaac would know about when it was happening. But he couldn't have made the lists this time, I hadn't told anyone what tools I wanted, just that I would find them at a garage. Everything we needed was in my head.

"Yeah, I needed some stuff." I gave a nod. "Tools, parts, screws. Building stuff around here takes a lot more supplies than I realised."

I turned to leave.

"You have staplers in your pockets," Isaac stopped me.

I stopped, breathing out a sigh of embarrassment. He must've thought I was all over the place, losing my mind. I mean, we never needed staplers anymore, and Glenn picked them up just to shoot them at me in meetings when he got bored. Things escalated, and now we had all-out battles in the library. But of course, no one else knew about that, so now I was just wandering around with two staplers in my two back pockets like I was lost.

I was too flustered to even realise why he'd even seen the staplers in my back pockets.

I took two steps back, so I was back by the table and put them down on the surface beside me. Isaac just glanced down at the staplers, and then up at me expectantly, like I had the time to explain what I was doing with two staplers in my back pockets.

"Thanks," I said and started walking again.

"I'll see you later," was all he said.

"Yeah, see you later."

Part of me hoped that was true.

"We just want this to be a quick thing, in and out, grab whatever we can and go" Sasha was saying as we approached the garage, coming around the corner to the doors that rolled upwards. "Clear any walkers, grab what we need, and go."

"Y'all heard the lady," Daryl agreed. "Keep it quiet, we don' know what's in here."

When we rounded the building, the garage door was already up. There was a car in the middle with the bonnet open, a Dodge Charger, but it was a little different. It looked more like a police car, undercover and black. They sold them that way, for police officers. Sometimes they'd be decorated to look like a police car and sometimes they'd be black, undercover for want of a better word. Not all police needed the bright white and black colours.

The closer we got, the better of a look I got around the rest of the room. The counters were covered in dust, but there were clear parts where the items had been moved, which was strange. They'd have to have been moved recently, in the past few days to stop the dust from filling in those spots again.

Everything in the room was rather neat and clean, for a garage with the door rolled up all the way. Either someone had been here recently, or they hadn't, which meant that it should either be near or not. It was too clean and ordered in here for the door to have been left up for weeks.

Something was off, which left my mind racing until I could pinpoint the details that seemed wrong. The bonnet of the car was left open, which would've been normal for a garage, but a place with this level of deterioration that befell the building meant that the engine was far too clean. On that front, the car was also extremely clean, with the off patches of dust and dirt, but the windscreen had been wiped down.

I opened my mouth to say something, but I noticed something that'd been left out on one of the work benches. It was a long, bendy plate of metal with a twist at the end, and a yellow, circle handle. A dipstick, how to measure oil levels in the car. I touched my finger against the bottom of the twist and felt my chest tighten when my finger turned black from the oil. Again, drying this would take days, but the coincidences were lining up far too much.

It was fresh.

"Someone's here," I called back to them.

All guns were out in a second, every one facing a different hiding spot where someone could be. Moments like this were when I felt the most safe, despite being in obvious danger; the seconds because the words came out of my mouth, all areas were covered.

"How do you know?" Maggie asked.

I held up the dipstick, keeping my gun out with another hand. "The car is clean, open. This is out and wet so someone was checking the oil just before we got here."

"Doesn't give us an idea of numbers," Sasha mumbled to herself.

"Everyone keep your guns up," Glenn called out, "check everywhere."

"We could just go," Maggie suggested.

"And risk being followed back?" Daryl questioned. "No, we don' know who these people are."

Which wasn't a problem until we saw what happened to Isaac's mother. We were always cautious of people, but we hadn't seen someone do something that bad to another person since the Governor. If whoever was here had any involvement with any of those people, we did not want them to know where we lived.

I moved to the first door I saw in the room, maybe a cupboard or reception area, hard to tell through the door. Glancing back, I saw that everyone else had gone their own way, so if something bad was behind the door then it was up to me. Fine, I had done it before.

I kicked the door backwards and jumped when there was someone behind it. "Don't shoot!"

The boy—maybe a year or two older than me—flung his hands into the air. I looked down, checking to see if he had a gun, but he didn't. I kept my gun on him, not lowering it, even when I felt someone coming up behind me.

Daryl passed me, aiming the crossbow into the cupboard. He flicked it outward as a gesture, "C'mon outta there, nice and slow."

He complied, stepping out from the cupboard. "It's just me," he was saying as he walked into the middle of the room. "I'm alone."

"Yeah, well we're still gonna take a look around," Glenn told him, not believing him at all.

"You won't find anyone else," he called after him. "It's just me now."

Glenn and Sasha walked away, checking the rest of the building for any other people. He was my age, and in my experience, there weren't any people my age that travelled alone. Sure, he was a little older, maybe even in university, but still. The only people around my age were still alive because of groups.

"I heard you guys talking," he started, waiting for Glenn and Sash to get back. "Do you have a group?"

Maggie glanced at Daryl, but ignored the look he gave her as she answered, "We do."

"Well, I did, before," he added quickly. "I was there with some friends from school but things got bad. I've been on my own since."

I glanced back for the others when I noticed his dodge "How'd you get the car?"

It was a police package, so I guessed that the only options for him having it would be that it belonged to a member of his family or that he found it. It meant that he wasn't lying about that at least, because if he said he got it at graduation that would've been a little suspicious. (The lie itself wouldn't have been suspicious, the car meant nothing to us, just the fact that he was lying in the first place.)

"I found it," he said. "My dad taught me how to maintain them. I was just trying to put oil in when you guys showed up."

Not lying.

"I haven't seen a group in a long while," the boy started. "The people I came across, some of them had groups, but you could never tell if anyone was good or bad. It was all just men, groups of men. Never women, or kids," he looked at me. "That's why I trust you guys. You seem like good people."

If you only knew.

It was best not to be transparent so that people didn't get a false opinion of the group because of the things that some of us had done. Some of us here had done bad things, others had not. It was just so strange to trust a group of people you didn't know because of who they had around with them because I—seemingly the most innocent and trustworthy person here—had killed six people.

And he wouldn't know that; it just made me think that maybe he was putting his trust in the wrong places, and how often he could've done that before he met us. However, in normal circumstances, maybe the indication of women and children was a good indication of a group's morality.

I heard the footsteps of Glenn arriving before I saw him, the gun now holstered. "We couldn't find anyone else."

"I told you, there is no one else," the boy confirmed, looking at Glenn. He met the eyes of everyone in the room before he said, "My name is Zach."

"Zach, it does seem like you're alone," Sasha started. "We can take you back to our group. But we have to ask you questions first."

"Yeah, sure. Anything," Zach cautiously lowered his hands.

Sasha nodded, glancing at everyone else as they gave her a nod, agreeing with her. So she asked, "How many walkers have you killed?"

Zach looked almost confused, shrugging as he answered, "I don't know, a lot."

"How many people have you killed?"

Again, more confusion. More shocked this time as he realised the meaning behind that question, even a little scared when he realised that we had asked that for a reason, "What? None."

"Why?"

"Why would I kill people?"

I missed that question. I used to think it myself, but hearing it now seemed almost dampened by everything that happened over the past few months. Killing wasn't normal, not something I planned on doing, but I knew that if I had to, I would.

Sasha looked back over her shoulder, probably wondering whether that was a suitable answer. Daryl just nodded in return.

"Okay, we're going to finish up here. Do what you need to do to your car and we'll show you the way back. And don't think about pulling anything, we're letting you join us but that doesn't mean we trust you completely."

"I got it," he nodded.

I joined the rest of my group to walk around the garage, taking all of the tools and parts and clearing the entire place out. We worked together to get everything into the back of our car, even being helped by Zach at points when he saw someone carrying a lot or just whether they walked past him. It kept him from filling the oil, I noticed.

On the desk, I saw a pot of pencils, pens. I thought about grabbing them for Isaac for a second, but I hesitated. Pencils and pens always got ruined back when I worked in the garage, which was why I bought a pack for my dad and a pack for myself, so I could keep the good ones in my bag and they would not get all sticky and ruin my pencil case.

I pulled the pot towards myself and tipped it onto its side. They weren't sticky, almost new. Just the layer of dust that covered everything else. I could wipe them off and give them to him. I put the pencils away and picked up the pot when I heard something else rattling inside. I glanced in and found a sharpener and rubber, two essentials which I wasn't sure Isaac had. I grabbed both of them either way. I'm sure the last thing he'd want was for his one coping mechanism to run out because he didn't have a sharpener.

I stopped on the way past his car, saw the bottle of oil he grabbed, and immediately saw the problem. Sure, the oil would be fine if the engine was bigger, or smaller, but the size he was working with meant the oil was wrong. I wasn't too aware of how bad it would be, because the cars were the same, but I did know what he should be using to make sure that it was correct.

"It's oil." I didn't jump or startle as Zach came up beside me. "I was just topping it up. I can show you how if you want, it might be something you'll have to do at some point."

"I was just seeing if you were using the right one," I said. "But I don't think you are."

"Of course I am."

"I mean, you would be if that were a 2.7 or 5.7 litre, but this is a 3.5. Also, that kind would be better for colder starting climates, which you won't be needing to worry about for a couple of months, and even then, in this country, it doesn't normally matter," I shrugged. "You need to be using SAE 10W-30."

It was funny to see the look on his face, despite it being the same reaction I got from anyone who tried to teach me about cars. Most of the time I just nodded along, not wanting to embarrass them, but Zach was about to do something wrong and I wasn't sure if his car would react that badly to what he was doing.

I started walking back to our car, putting whatever I had in my arms in the boot. Heading back inside, I wanted to make one more sweep of the room to check that we'd gotten everything we needed.

Zach followed me, and I saw that he'd changed the oil he was using. I turned to walk away, leaving him standing next to the car stunned. He went across the room to grab the oil I told him to, before using that to top up his car. While he was working, I made another circle around the room, grabbing more parts and tools that could be useful to me back at the group.

As I carried them outside, Zach followed after me. "You know, I do normally use the right one," he said. "It's a different brand."

I stopped, turning to look at him. "I know more than you, you won't impress me. The fact that you remember a brand and not the type of oil you need is worrying, especially seeing as you can find that information in the manual in the glove box.."

Again, normally I wouldn't have tried embarrassing anyone, not on purpose, or at least if I did, I did it with someone who wouldn't feel too bad about it. But I didn't have the time to understand why Zach was doing something wrong, despite what he said about his dad teaching him.

My dad was a mechanic, he taught me what to do and I got things wrong. There were often times when Daryl stopped me from doing something before I electrocuted cut myself, or made a mistake when working. It happened more and more recently with how much I felt myself zoning out on tasks that I used to enjoy.

"I'm not trying to impress you," he stopped next to me as I stopped. "I just don't want you to think I do this a lot, you know?" He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "You clearly know your stuff, and I don't want you to think I'm an idiot or something."

"She thinks everyone is an idiot. Get used to it." Sasha looked at me as she passed, "Did you get everything you needed?"

I nodded, holding my arms up a little higher to show her that I was done and just needed to drop my findings off in the car.

"Okay, get those in the trunk and we'll get back to the prison," she nodded. "Everyone, we're ready to go. Let's move!"

She started walking away to round up the others as she kept yelling and shouting, telling them to get in the cars.

"Let me guess," Zach started. "She's in charge?"

"There's a group of people in charge," I said simply. "A council."

"And you're on it?" Zach guessed, and I just looked at him. "Look, I don't wanna make another stupid mistake by assuming that you aren't on it."

"Everyone here apart from Maggie, and there's another member back home," I said.

"So you are on it."

"I am."

"How come?"

I looked at him now, head tilted. "How come what?"

"How'd you get to be in charge?" He asked, and I raised a brow. "I'm just curious."

"Move it!" Sasha called back, so I started walking back towards where we left the cars.

I heard a door open behind me and glanced back to see Zach getting into his car, but Glenn stopped him. I rolled my eyes, not prepared to answer that question to someone we were bringing back. Not many people were happy to hear about the war, to begin with, some even saying that they didn't feel safe at the prison in case anyone did decide to come back and attack us.

"I get it," he nodded. "Story for later."

"Or never."

"Or never," he agreed.

"Come on!" Sasha yelled again.

Zach decided now was the time to listen, so he gave me a nod as he turned away, walking back towards his car. He grabbed the keys off the side, and before he could even open the door, he was stopped by Glenn. "You aren't driving."

Zach's mouth hung open, confused and shocked. "What?"

"You could just drive off, tell anyone you know about us," Glenn said.

"I don't have a group," Zach argued.," Zach exclaimed, but his voice remained level. He was more just trying to understand, understand how we still couldn't trust him after we found him here with no one else, just as he had told us. It didn't matter, we had a group of people, and they weren't here either.

"How would we know that?"

It was a careful question, one that Zach couldn't answer, which was the purpose of it. The only answer he could give was you can't, which made him realise why we weren't able to let him run off, in case he did know anyone else.

He nodded and glanced at the car. "Then who's taking it? I don't just want to leave it behind. He opened his mouth, but now seemingly understood what Glenn was talking about. He asked instead. "I don't just want to leave it behind."

Daryl glanced around, eyes landing on me and Glenn. "Y'all good to take it?"

"Yeah, we can."

"Maggie, sit in the back with him," Sasha instructed.

"Got it."

"Okay," Sasha called again. "Let's hit the road."

Zach was less than convinced when we arrived at the prison. I could hear his stream of questions when we got out of the car, which made me happier that I was riding with Glenn and not Maggie.

He was nonstop from the moment he stepped out of the car asking if we really lived in a prison? or how did this even work? I could see Daryl sending him a glare that Zach never seemed to notice, which is when Daryl met my gaze instead and audibly rolled his eyes. I just shrugged and told myself that it must've been a shock for any new people we brought here.

"—I mean, a prison?"

"Yes, a prison," Daryl snapped after the third time that he asked.

"But, how—"

"We cleared it out," Maggie interrupted him. "Made it a home."

Zach was quiet, surprisingly. Maybe the word home gave him something else to mull over, the fact that we lived here, which was something he'd brought up a few times in his endless streams of questions. Instead, he just nodded and kept his mouth closed.

"We have a farm down on the field so we won't have to go on as many runs," Maggie said, gesturing down to the field. "And people do their part here to keep this place running. My daddy, he's on the council, he wants to make this place self-sustaining."

"Okay . . ." Still unconvinced, he followed Maggie as she started leading him inside to C Block. Me and Glenn followed her, grabbing some of the findings to bring inside and sort through inside the prison.

I could see Zach's expression change as we entered the Cell Block, and his gaze switched from all the people who were sitting around and working. I suppose the people here would be a clear indication that we had a full community, people who live here alongside us.

"We take in people here, give them somewhere to live. It's safe here, no walkers can get in and we have people on the fences making sure they hold up and stay strong," Maggie explained as she kept walking. She didn't even realise that Zach had stopped, and Beth stood up to greet him.

"Hi," Beth smiled.

"Hey."

Maggie cleared her throat, getting Zach's attention. "Zach. This is my sister, Beth," Maggie said. Beth shot Maggie a look, but she ignored her and continued talking about the prison. "You can have some time to get settled, but we expect people here to pull their weight."

"Yeah, of course," Zach nodded.

"The rooms are full in this cell block but we have some spares in the others," Maggie was saying. "We'll put a curtain up so you can have privacy and you can put your things in there."

"Thanks," he smiled.

"No problem. I'll get someone to show you around," Maggie said.

"I can do it." Beth was quick to jump in, stopping Maggie before she could leave. "I'm not busy."

Maggie stopped, both eyebrows raised with a small smile on her face. "Oh, yeah? Where's Judith?"

"She's sleepin'." Beth crossed her arms, shooting Maggie a look. "Carol said she'll check in on her."

I wondered about their behaviour, Beth and her tone and Maggie who was almost smiling, as if she was trying to annoy her in some way. She even glanced at me with her eyebrows raised, as if she wanted me to get in on whatever she was using to wind Beth up, but I didn't really get it.

"Follow me," Beth smiled.

I stood with Maggie as Beth led Zach away, for some reason, watching them. Part of me hoped Maggie would say something that would help me understand the smile or look she'd been giving Beth, but nothing came and I was kept in the dark.

"Someone's happy we brought him here," Glenn said, standing next to Maggie.

Maggie hummed in response. "She's probably just happy to see someone else her own age."

A frown worked its way onto my face, and I stood there confused. I was just happy we found another person, with no consideration of his age; I would speak to anyone at the prison without issue. Beth was usually the same way, which was why I didn't understand her excitement about meeting someone else our age.

Thinking about the adolescents at the prison did remind me of something. "I should find Isaac."

"Isaac?" Maggie cocked an eyebrow, giving me the same look she was giving Beth a moment ago. She turned her eyes to Glenn, who was wiping his hands with a rag and gave a small shrug and an expression that I couldn't read.

Part of me felt kind of embarrassed that I'd said my plans out loud, but I forced myself to ignore them and just shrugged. "Yeah, I found some pencils and a rubber for him—"

"WHAT?!"

At the same time as Glenn's outburst, I heard a crash and shot around to see Rick just behind me. He was looking at me and then turned to Maggie expectantly. I saw that she held a hand up to him, but no one else said anything.

"Ace, what do you mean?" Maggie asked slowly.

Still confused at their confusion, I reached behind me and opened my bag, pulling out the pencils and other supplies I found for Isaac. "See?"

"Did—?" She stopped herself for whatever reason, taking a slow breath before she asked, "Did you mean an eraser?"

"Yeah, and pencils and a sharpener." I held them out. "I found them in the garage."

Glenn was now leaning over against a table, clutching his heart in one hand as he made a strained sound that was almost similar to him being in pain. I didn't understand it. Rick also breathed out a sigh behind me, leaning over to grab whatever he dropped before he kept walking.

"Is . . . that a problem?" I looked around at the others, failing to understand their reactions.

"Of course not," Maggie answered. But there was something in her face that made me believe otherwise, and how she continued in broken sentences, clearly flustered. "It's good. It's nice. It's really nice you thought of him out there."

"I just saw them," I shrugged. "They're for drawing, I don't really know anyone else that does that so . . ."

An awkward silence stretched, I kept glancing around at them, still trying to piece it together. It was a awkward and uncomfortable few moments, that shouldn't have felt that way at all. I had no idea what made it that way. Glancing toward the exit, I figured I should just step out, whatever was going on had to be between them. I didn't think I had any part in whatever was going on there.

"I'll see you later then," I began to turn.

"Ace, wait," Maggie tapped my shoulder.

I looked back at her expectantly, the others behind her seemed to be trying to look everywhere but in our direction.

"You can't . . ." she chuckled a little, hand over her mouth. After a second she looked at me with a more straight face. "You can't go around saying rubber. And you cannot go around saying you found one for a boy."

I stared at her with so much confusion. "But that's what I found him."

A strange sound came from what I thought was Glenn where he was still leaning on the table, but his face was hidden in both hands. I looked at him and then Rick but he was still awkwardly looking anywhere else. Even Maggie swung around for a second at the sound.

When Maggie was looking at me again, she was giving me an awkward, pained smile. "Rubber means something else, to us. So when you said you found that for Isaac, we were thrown off guard. I also want to make sure you don't repeat this with anyone else."

"That's what this is," I reminded them, holding it out again.

"Eraser," Rick said, clearing his throat. "It's an eraser."

"Rubber is another word for condom, Ace," blurted Maggie finally.

My jaw dropped and something in my stomach flipped. I almost dropped everything in my hands and had to half haphazardly hold on to it. At least their reactions made a lot of sense now, and I could see why they were all being so awkward.

"Oh . . . Oh, God."

"Yeah."

"Oh my God, why? That's so stupid. Oh God," I was cringing in horror and embarrassment, wanting to go die in a hole somewhere so I never had to face any of these people again. "But it's an eraser, that's what it is. You must've known what I was talking about."

"Well, when you showed us I caught on," Maggie said.

"I didn't," Glenn groaned into his hands.

"Rick?" I asked, almost too horrified to look at him but needing the validation. "You know what they're called."

Rick ran a hand over his face and kept his eyes on the ground, "I've never heard them called that before."

"Never?" I looked around.

"British thing, I guess?" Glenn offered.

"Oh God," I said again. I was ready to go into my cell and never come out. "But, that's all they're called in Britain. No one calls it an eraser there."

All I could really think about was how much I'd said what I had before when I was at school or in the garage and I needed a rubber—eraser. No one ever corrected me, no one I knew of laughed. At least none of my friends laughed, but maybe they caught on after knowing me for so long. Didn't my teachers ever hear me?

"I'm just surprised your dad never told you," Maggie said.

"Dad always knew what I was talking about," I reminded her. "Any British words I used with him he knew."
"When did you move here?"

"When I was five or six."

"Maybe he just wanted to wait until you were older," Maggie suggested.

"Maybe he just didn't want to have this talk," Glenn corrected her.

Rick nodded a solemn agreement.

"Well, great," I muttered sarcastically. "You people will be seeing me, never. Have a good day."

And I was then able to walk away without being stopped because they probably never wanted to see each other again either.

I just wanted to post this one today because it is very funny for many different reasons, as you probably would have just read. I am still 10 chapters ahead in my writing, a process that was supposed to help me keep up with some kind of schedule had instead turned into me just knowing where the hell my book is going in 10 chapters. Still, more useful than just writing these and then posting them straight away.

The one I just finished needs a lot more work, not a lot of dialogue in the 10 chapter future, but it's okay. There's better stuff before and after it, but it's kinda necessary. You'll see when I get there.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed :)