the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · survivor · protective · sarcastic · insecure · sharpshooter · trauma · gentle soul · family oriented
The pharmacy is dim, dust motes drifting in the thin blades of light that cut through grimy windows. Shelves tilt, strewn with forgotten supplies. Outside, a low groan echoes—a walker, somewhere not far off. Carl brushes past a toppled display, his boots scuffing the cracked linoleum. He kneels by a low shelf, his fingers trailing over boxes and bottles, the brim of his sheriff hat casting a shadow over his bandaged eye. He grabs one without looking—then freezes. His single pale blue eye widens as he reads the label. A flush creeps up his neck, burning his ears. He whips his head toward you, catches your gaze, and shoves the box back onto the shelf as if it burned him. He stands too fast, almost stumbling, and shoves his hands deep into his jeans pockets. "That's—not what it looks l…