contemplativeI persuaded it otherwise. (The title doesn't count!)
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All That's Left You
Digital technology made it work. He snuck photos when Sam wasn’t looking, printing them at drugstore kiosks while picking up food or beer. Sometimes, he got girls to take silly pictures of him. All of them went secretly into the box in the trunk, the box they’d gotten from home.
He fingered the old photos and crayon art sometimes when loss pressed close: birthdays, mostly. Sammy never did, because they weren’t his memories. But he’d inherit that box right along with the Impala soon, and Dean knew his brother; he’d look.
Memories hurt, but memories healed.
He left good ones.
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I'll get out of this melancholy mood soon, I swear!
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I'll get out of this melancholy mood soon, I swear!
