A prominent voice from just beyond the front porch causes Carol to perch forward and furrow her brows in mild confusion. From what she can see, a woman clad in some archaic-looking clothes with a knapsack on her back has her hands on her hips and a purse on her lips, stance rather confrontational. Carol places the novel she's reading onto her lap and waits just a few moments until the woman â now known as Ruby â finishes introducing herself.
   This 'Ruby' makes herself at home and walks up to Carol's porch, not bothering to ask for permission. Though, with the current desparity that rings throughout the entirety of her land, there's no choice but to allow a helping hand.
   Carol, since her and Ruby's first meeting, has been shunned from having the luxury of sleeping in, not having to milk cows, working in the fields...it's a turning point in her life to say the least. She's learned to do things that only servants speak of. A farm had never been on the top of her priority list but it's all that she has to sustain her ability to live and, therefore, no complaints are made.
   Each day with the live-in has opened the doors to a budding friendship and for that Carol is thankful. She hadn't realized how lonely it really can be to be in constant solitude. Or, without Daryl â to be more specific. Ruby is a pretty decent confidant, a resourceful helper, a loud mouthed amusement, and a pretty good person to pass the time with. She cracks some odd jokes and makes Carol flinch with her unabashed bluntness once in a while, but her positives make it even in the end.   It's just so...odd without him there.Â
  Sure, their interactions had been stiff at first â awkward, she and Daryl's; but the tension began to melt, just as Carol would do the same in his strong arms when he wasn't away in the war. They had seen each other quite a lot and that was a big deal for the rather solitary Carol; he had brought out something new in her. To the point where she actually came to him with a novel and a photo of herself in hand one day, offering the small items to the man. He had taken them and she had blushed furiously in response, forcing herself to walk away for the shortest of moments so she could regather herself. He then called her back to him and pulled her in for an eager kiss to the lips â something she has yet to forget the feeling of.
   At a time like this, as she helps Ruby prepare some chicken for dinner, Carol looks back in time and chuckles to herself as the memories begin to flood her mind, cheeks unintentionally turning color. How she hopes the damned war will end soon.
   The next few days pass just as usual and without a hitch. Regular duties on the farm ensue but the mailman comes just a few hours after dawn and that sends a ping of sparks throughout Carol's tired body. She walks down the beaten path and grabs the small stack, fingers carding through each envelope until they reach a familiar print. Her breath involuntarily hitches and she brings one free hand to cup her mouth in excitement, body automatically speed walking back to the front porch of her and Ruby's small home.
   Once she reaches the porch, Carol takes a seat on a wooden chair and, before opening the envelope, holds the worn item close to her chest. A barely audible inhale follows the motion and she swiftly brings the thing back to her lap so that she can open it. Not two seconds pass and she has a small piece of paper between two frail hands.
   "Iâ I'm comin' home," she reads aloud just above a whisper, the swell in her words uncovering the coming salty liquid that begins to fill the brim of her eyes. "Ruby! Ruby!" The help rushes over to Carol, thinking the woman was hurt or something, and has a baffled expression on her features.
   "Watcha got there, Carul?"
   Carol hands Ruby the letter and allows her lips to curl into a small smile. "He's comin' home, Ruby. ...He's comin' home."