It’s a chilly October morning when the apartment next to his
finally fills, and Dean watches from his window with a fresh brewed cup of
coffee as the moving truck is unloaded. They keep pretty quiet for the most
part, seeing as how it’s barely six and the goddamn sun is just starting to
peek over the horizon. Good. Considerate neighbors are always a nice thing to
Dean sips at his coffee, wondering absently what his new
neighbor is like for a brief moment, then leaves his window to finish getting
ready for work. He gets all his lesson plans together, grabs the graded
homework, and is out the door half an hour later.
As he’s unlocking the Impala, Dean glances over to see a man
walking out of the apartment and to the moving truck. His dark hair is wild and
mussed, his sweater a soft-looking blue cashmere, and his jeans are
paint-stained and well-worn. He doesn’t have shoes on.
He looks over at Dean and offers a bright, kind smile and wave,
and Dean is completely frozen with awe when the dying grass beneath his bare
feet surges with life, becoming a vibrant, healthy green, and small, delicate
flowers suddenly sprout with each of his steps towards the truck.
Dean barely remembers to wave back before he’s in his car and
driving away, and he can’t get his mind to think about anything but the
friggin’ miracle he just witnessed
for the rest of his day.