"Sometimes in our lives, we all have pain,

We all have sorrow,

But if we are wise,

We know that there's always tomorrow."

Head-to-door, Forest listened outside until she had finished. Then, gathering himself, he gave a few firm knocks. "Can I come in?"

"None shall enter."

He chuckled, leaning into his cane. "You know, I have a sore back and a walking stick," he warned. "I'm not afraid to smack you with it!"

There was an overdone exhale from the other end. Then, after a moment of silence, soft steps came his way.

The man was already scowling, a brow raised. When she opened the door, he tapped at his bare wrist and huffed. "Long time, no see."

"I saw you yesterday."

"Well, I've got places to be!"

The woman dropped her shoulders, fixing him with a glare. "You might have a cane, but I've got a fist." With that, a smile took to her face and she stepped aside. "Come on in, little brother."

"With pleasure."

Promptly, he was greeted by the kitchen to his right, white and pristine, and a wooden table to his left with four chairs. Stepping in further, he entered the spacious living room, a wooden rocking chair in the back corner. On one side of it stood a large shelf cluttered with books of all kinds; on the other was a squared end table made from the same material, her well-used Bible on top. Meanwhile, to the left of him was a narrow hallway, alongside it two rooms.

He smiled and chuckled. "Is that your vanilla presume?" He held up a finger, thinking. "I'm pretty sure it is."

"My favorite."

"You know, you weren't always this neat," Forest said, shaking his head. "This place is cleaner than my own room."

"Yes, well, things have changed." Then she lowered herself into the rocking chair and leaned back. "Stay and visit. Have some water and maybe a banana."

"Quite a selection, I see."

"Well, walkers may be few these days but it's still an apocalypse!"

He tapped against his cane's handle. "Winter, I'm sorry for what happened."

Her face suddenly stiffened. "I know you are." She bit her lip for a moment. "Sixty-nine's pretty good, though, don't you think?"

"As much as I loved Autumn, you had a connection with her that I never had." Forest sighed as he pulled up a chair in front of her. Then, setting the cane aside, he sat down.

"Forest, that was a few days ago. I'm almost over it!"

The man raised a brow, just as before, and crossed his arms. "That I doubt, but... you do seem better. Just know that if you ever want to talk I'll be here, okay?"

"Okay." With that, though, she chuckled. "Now that I doubt. Forest, you're my brother, I get that, but why are you here? Get back to your wife and daughter!"

"She's twenty-one. I think she can handle herself for a few minutes." Then he exhaled softly, studying her. "Besides, we barely spoke yesterday and I saw your eyes, Winter; you've been crying. I wanted to properly talk this time."

"You know what would make me feel better?"

The man searched her face, eyes narrowed. "What?"

"Holly and I never played our nightly Uno! She must have come while I was away. Think she could drop by?"

Forest nodded and gestured her close. When she leaned forward, he placed his hands over hers. "I'm really sorry for what happened. As always, I'm just a few doors over."

"Twelve isn't exactly a few-"

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"You know what I mean."

"Okay."

The man gave one more chuckle before looking to her bookcase. On the top shelf, there was one that stuck out from the rest; one that he knew all too well: Mom's diary.

"All these years later and we still have a part of Mom," Winter said suddenly. When he turned back to her, she looked at him softly. "Forest, it's yours now."

Forest paled, holding up a hand. "No, I can't, Winter-"

"I've had it all these years. Don't you think it's time you hold onto it? One day I'll be gone, but it can't die with me, brother."

-

62, 63, 64...

As he strolled down the long and narrow hallway, its chipped walls a light blue, he smiled. Over the past eleven years, this three-story apartment complex had served his family well. Though that prison was once overly spacious, it had grown crowded as the years went on and eight years was quite enough. And as for all the places in between, they were never as sound as this apartment; never something he'd call his home.

When Forest arrived at room 74, he pulled out a key and gave a glance around. Twenty rooms were lined on either side of this floor and not a soul was in sight. Forest shook his head, remembering a time when he wasn't a morning person either.

Shutting the door behind him, Forest took a look around. In contrast to his sister's place, his was cluttered. The living room was a mess, stray trash and various clothing scattered across the floor. Most of it was Holly's doing, no doubt.

"Hey, Dad."

He picked his head up and gave a warm smile.

Fixing her golden locks into a messy bun, Holly hummed softly to herself. Then, when finished, she looked at him when her gaze shifted to the item in his hand. "Dad?" She shook her head. "Why do you have grandma's diary?"

"Aunt Winter gave it to me," he answered, suddenly solemn. But he quickly recovered and set a hand over her shoulder. "Sweetie, play cards with Auntie, help me clean this mess-"

Holly didn't hold back her groan.

"And then... let's go for a walk. I want to tell you a story."

His daughter studied him, head tilted. "I'll get the cards." Stepping down the brief hallway, three doors aligned to it, she disappeared into the one at the very end. In the next moment, she reappeared, cards in hand.

After she excused herself, Forest finally looked down to his mother's diary. And squeezed his cane's handle. Should I do it?

"Hello, honey," came a chirpy voice.

The man stifled a yelp and met his wife's face. "Zoe, dear, how are you feeling? Is it any better?"

Zoe, her morning tea in hand, waved him off with her other. "I've been bitten before, Forest. This isn't the first time." Despite herself, she turned her neck to the side, showing him. "That vaccine still works!"

"You're sixty-five, dear, and I'm sixty-seven. We must be careful." Then, releasing a breath, he set the diary on the end table beside the couch.

"You won't lose me that easily. Not over some silly walker bite!"

"All thanks to Bosley," he added, looking back at her.

"Well, technically her sister."

Forest smiled, approaching her softly. After a moment of eyeing her, his smile growing, he set his cane against the nearby wall. "What would I do without you?" he asked, planting her with a kiss. Then he wrapped her into a hug, bearing his head into her shoulder. "I found her at one of the worse times of my life."

She chuckled, hugging him back, but then she undid herself from the embrace. "Forest, I'm sorry for what happened in that prison. Matthew ordered us to treat you and your loved ones like prisoners. Only after Holly sacrificed herself did we really question ourselves. Maybe you people weren't as bad as he let on?"

"Zoe-"

"Wait, let me finish," she insisted, binding her fingers with his. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Smiling her way, it wavered. "Zoe, I lost Holly that day but then I found you. She may have saved me for the day, but you've saved me for a lifetime."

"I know I'm pretty awesome," she said, nodding along with him.

The man sighed, satisfied, when he reached for his cane and stepped back. "I think it's time... we tell her about Holly. The one we named her after."

Zoe suddenly crossed her arms, looking to the front door. "I agree."

-

"What is the story about?" she asked, giving him a gentle nudge.

Side-by-side, they were walking down the hallway, each in step. More people were about at this hour, getting on with their day.

"Dad?"

He came to a stop at the foot of the staircase and closed his eyes. "You'll know soon enough."

"Hold up," came a familiar voice, hurried steps coming their way. "Holly, I've got something for you!"

Holly turned, smiling brightly at her friend. "Yes? I'm about to go with my father. What is it?"

Her black curly hair braided behind her, the girl held up a hand, her other behind her back. "Now, I'm sorry it took me so long, but I really wanted it to look go-"

"You're my age," Holly said, chuckling. "You don't need to make whatever this is a big surprise." As soon as she spoke, however, it was revealed and all words left her.

Her friend held the drawing up, studying her. "Are you okay?" When she didn't respond, the girl looked to her father. "I hope this isn't too terrible. I really tried making an accurate picture of your... Aunt Autumn."

Slowly, Holly accepted the paper, her eyes growing wet. "It's beautiful," she said, holding it up close, examining its every detail. "Thank you."

Autumn sat in the middle of her living room couch, her siblings on either side of her. While they faced her, smiling, she was looking ahead with the biggest smile. They were in present-time and all was just perfect; from their attire to their every wrinkle.

"You remembered."

"How could I forget?" With that, her friend eyed her, trying to catch her gaze. "See you later, Holly."

Finally, she met her eyes, wiping at her own. "See you later, Chloe."

-

"Here we are," Holly said, pushing the double-doors open. "Now... about that story?" She held the door open for him, her other with the drawing. "It seems important."

"Oh, it is," Forest said back, nodding, and paused after stepping through. "But first... let me recover after all those stairs! My back isn't what it used to be." The man leaned into his cane for a moment. "You know, it wasn't always like this."

"What was it like before?"

"Let's start from the beginning."