bright spot
In another world, maybe.
There's a chance they could've met some other time, some other place. Maybe at a concert, or an airport, or even on one of those dating sites. Anything's possible, right?
Maybe instead of supply runs she could've taken Maggie on a date. In that world, Sasha hands Maggie a bouquet of flowers instead of a freshly-sharpened knife. She holds open doors instead of barricading them. There's a chance that somewhere, in some other world, they're together and it's better than she can even imagine.
Sasha clings to that chance more than she probably should; leans heavy on it like it's the only thing keeping her upright. Maybe it is.
It's a thought she calls to mind when she needs it, when she's desperately close to crying out and doesn't trust her legs not to buckle under the force of the wail she feels building in her chest.
The rare times when Maggie smiles at her, pure sunshine beaming right at Sasha, absolutely blinding. The hugs that never last quite long enough, the fleeting kisses on dirt-smeared cheeks. It's all Sasha can do sometimes just not to scream.
They're living in a world almost devoid of hope, surrounded by death and destruction. But then there's Maggie, side pressed up against Sasha's, smiling softly at her, and it's too much and it's not enough and Sasha wants to yell until her voice is gone. It wouldn't be the worst thing she's lost.
But she clings to that one little bright spot, that small bit of hope that maybe it could be different somewhere else.
At night when Maggie is sound asleep with Glenn's arms wrapped protectively around her, Sasha lays awake, thinking. Hoping.
In another world, she could've been him.