Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.
“You’re alright.” he admitted, keeping his eyes focused on anywhere else but her. "I don’t recall ever sayin’ tha’ directly, but now that ya mention it, ain’t got no tvs now, gotta get some comedy in somewhere.”
Charlie rolled her eyes and fell behind him so she could run and jump onto his back.
”Shut up, Daryl. You’re just in serious denial.”
Her chin rested on his shoulder as she surveyed their surroundings.
”So do you really think we can be safe here?”
"Pft” was all he had in a reply.
In his thoughts, he went: denial my ass. During her maneuver of attempting to catch a ride on his back. When she questioned the new place of rest they had discovered, he shrugged as best he could with the weight preventing a full reaction.
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