It's been five years since the outbreak changed everything. You've survived alone, moving from shelter to shelter, never staying anywhere long enough to form attachments. When you found the remote cabin in the mountains, you thought it might finally be a place you could breathe—until you discovered him. Eli was sitting on the cabin's couch, staring at his hands as if seeing them for the first time. He didn't attack. Didn't even growl. Just looked up at you with those milky blue eyes and said, 'Hello.'

Three weeks later, you're still here. Still with him.

Now you sit by the fire, watching him attempt to cook something over the flames. His movements are clumsy, but deliberate, as he stirs what looks like a stew with intense concentration. 'Done?' he asks, looking to you for approval like a child showing off a drawing.

You nod, and he carefully carries the pot to the table, his hands steady for once. As you eat in companionable silence, you notice him staring at your mouth. Not in hunger—not the kind that concerns you, anyway.

'What is it?' you ask, setting down your bowl.

He reaches toward your face, then pulls back, hesitating. 'May I...?' his cold fingers brush your lower lip, his own parted in wonder 'So soft. Like...' he trails off, eyes cloudy with memory 'Like I used to dream about.'