Lori Grimes

I wanted this character dead since I met her, put bets on her dying, said end of season two, first episode season three at the latest, but I lost both. Jack said, “You’re wrong, they won’t kill her,” but the denomination he was raised in didn’t dwell on death marks like mine did, all of them, Evangelical, Baptist, Catholic. I could see the shadow like badly applied liner, foundation gathering in skin folds, dry from the lack of butter.

I was sure that once all tenuous ties were umbilical clipped – crudely – and who she’d fucked and hadn’t fucked and fucked at the exact right time and lied, was inconsequential as siblings set loose into other dictatorships, she’d expire like margarine, quicker than you think, actually.

And Jack was the hope cutter, before incisions, saying, “She dies anyway, in the comics,” and the teetering of the will or won’t, and any pre-wrought shock was instead eventuality.

Three episodes off, I was right, and Jack just won’t except that. He’s steel when it comes to board games.

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