Faded

Nov 27, 2007 23:45

Clothes cascade out as Sam up-ends the duffle over the washing machine. He fishes around the bottom of the bag and pulls out a worn blue shirt. It’s frayed around the cuffs, one button dangles by a thread and there is a dark stain on the front that could be ketchup or blood. It reeks of sweat and gunpowder and ash and, under all that, of Dean.

Sam closes the lid and feeds the quarters in. He sits down, the crumpled shirt in his hands, and wonders how long it takes for the memory of a smell to fade.

drabble

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