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⁰²LEARNINGCURVE
❝ Life is delicate, not like the past. ❞
― William Crighton, Smile
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GLENN WAS ONE OF A KIND in Harlene's eyes. His courage born out of fear, his foolery defeated by his sleight, he had never failed to watch her back. He and she had clicked a guileless friendship long before Amy had become involved in the young adult bevy of the camp. All yet youthful, but expected to grow around rough edges and become distorted to outlive, hastily and crooked like a misshapen bone union.
The bones were broken alright, less enough to count, for they had not witnessed many disasters yet. But soon, they would all be forgotten. The more the days passed, the hope of the youth vanished.
Glenn knew how to make her laugh through the despair.
"Why on earth are you keeping track? Dip note, the world ended." He fiddled with the loose threads hanging from the visor of his baseball hat. Harlene could muster up better questions to ask. Was he still wearing the same clothes for weeks, or when was the last time he had let someone wash that poor hat? She bit her tongue because she knew Glenn had little time to care for himself. Because he always chose to care for others first, and he was selfless just like that, risking his life out there to bring back the food and reserves the campers needed.
So she entertained him, "I like to pretend it's going through a phase. Besides, with all the death, wouldn't it feel good to celebrate birthdays?" She crossed out another day on the calendar hanging from the walls, right by the family photos that Dale had framed. The RV was poorly decorated, still carrying that 70's interior, but it was the only reminder of home.
Glenn crossed his legs and flung them over the tip table. "I'm afraid for the calendar." He joked. "Its days are numbered." He smiled impishly at her face turning to him with disgust, and his hands raised defensively, "Come on, tell me that was the best dad joke you've ever heard."
