Silly Love Songs
There are exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in the shoebox under the passenger seat of the Impala. There have been exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in that box since Dean was twenty-five and bought a copy of Abbey Road and Combat Rock from a record store in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Most of the tapes were John’s, inherited right alongside the Impala, the soundtrack of a life on the road: Motorhead and Lynyrd Skynyrd; Black Sabbath and The Kinks; there’s even some Springsteen in there that Dean is pretty sure belonged to his mom before everything went to hell. Dean (and even Sam) can pick some of them out without even looking: Kashmir’s label has worn off from being handled so many times; Back in Black has a noticeable chip in the left corner; Heaven and Hell is weirdly heavier than the rest. Dean’s lived by this music; driven back and forth across the country to the sounds of those tapes. There are exactly twenty-two cassette tapes in the shoebox under the passenger seat of the Impala, until one day, there are exactly twenty-three.