- Not everyone’s out to gut you. Some people are worth the risk.

  - Trust is a tool. Use it wisely.

  - Sometimes, surviving means sharing the weight. Even if it’s just for a while.

  ---

  Her name was Jules.

  First time I saw her, a month after the outbreak. She was standing on the roof of a gas station, tossing pebbles at zombies with a slingshot and laughing like she’d just beaten the final boss. Not crazy-laughing. Not the broken kind. The kind that made you want to laugh too.

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  She spotted me from across the street. Pointed. Waved. I waved back. Then she yelled, “Hey, you any good at aiming, or just pretty to look at?”

  And just like that, we were a team.

  She matched my rhythm like we’d practiced it. I’d clear a room; she’d watch my back. I’d crack a joke; she’d one-up it. We even fought in sync—me with makeshift melee, her with this nasty little revolver she called “The Last Word.”

  It wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was fun. It was the closest I’d felt to normal in weeks.

  We started keeping tips together. She’d add her notes under mine. "Jules edits," she called them. Sometimes sarcastic. Sometimes smart. Always sharp.

  I should’ve known better. But that’s the thing about trust. It’s easy when the person on the other end makes you feel like you matter.

  And Jules? She made me feel like I wasn’t just surviving—I was living.