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Ch. 13 - Facade

"What about in the commissary?" I deliberated.

"The commissary?" They spoke in unison, confusion laced through their voices. 

"I mean, yeah," I pushed the metal door open with my shoulder. "We could pull out the tables and stuff," the sun greeted my skin affectionately. My brows furrowed as I squinted my eyes, reacting to the sudden lighting change.

Harry and Sherry turned to face one another, their eyes squinting in confusion. They were trying to picture what it would be like, how we could manage to host a night of entertainment in such a colorless room. It seemed nearly impossible to bring life into the shell of a building, so I understood their skepticism.

"I'm thinking I go on a few extra runs, try to find some decorations or something," I suggest. Our shoes struck the gravel, Sherry's heels gently clacking against the stones. 

Harry and I had to go to the garden to harvest ingredients for this week's menu, Sherry ran into us and wanted to tag along. Mainly to see if I had her wish granted, and to her pleasure, I had. She thought it was hilarious that I had promised Negan a dance in exchange for the party, but when she noticed my irritation, she smothered me with gratitude.

"Sherry," a deep voice called from the catwalk behind us, followed by a demanding whistle. The three of us turned to the callout to find Negan leaning against the bright yellow railing. He grinned, turning his hand palm-up and curling his index finger toward him. My gaze shifted to Sherry just as her shoulders dropped, her expression shortly following. She let out a quiet whine before turning to face Harry and me.

"I'll catch up with you two later?" She asked. I smiled gently and gave her a nod, knowing she would come by my room after dinner to hang out. "Bye, guys!"

"See you, Sher!" I called after her.

I looked back to Negan, his conceited expression directed toward me. He shot me a wink before I turned away and headed to the garden with Harry. Our boots began to imprint the grass, the fresh morning dew weighing each blade to the ground. A quaint silence claimed the air until the birds started to sing. I always thought it was ironic that birds still sang in the mornings. You spend the day fighting off the dead and the night in a half-sleep of caution and fatigue, only for the sun to come up and the birds to start chirping. This world is a never-ending shit show, and mother nature mocks us every single day.

"I quite like her," Harry spoke, "she's a good friend."

I nodded my head in agreement. "Makes me wonder why on earth she married Negan."

"I heard she and Dwight tried to leave. Negan was going to kill Dwight, but then Sherry said she would marry him if he let Dwight live," Harry's words dripped like honey.

"You're such a gossip, oh my god," I laughed at him. He grinned wide, both dimples popping from his cheeks, and bellowed.

We were greeted by a few workers as we approached the community garden, each of them harvesting away.

"Hey, y'all," the young girl, Willow, spoke first. "Whatcha need today?"

I reached into my back pocket and pulled out our list of ingredients, it was the beginning of the week, so we needed quite a bit. "Morning, Willow," I greeted her. "We need a lot, actually."

I handed the list to Harry for him to look over before we split off to gather our ingredients, but Willow quickly stood from the bushel of berries she was picking from and snatched the paper from his fingers. She flicked her wrist and brought the list to her face, carefully scanning the items one by one. Her head snapped up as she dropped her hand to her side, "We got it!" She turned around back to the garden quickly.