School
Sam. Dean. School. 100 words. Simple.
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Sam and Dean, four and eight: their first time at this place. Not their first time temporarily deserted, wrong side of the window. Always on the outside, looking in.
They see darting, exciting colours. Everyone mixing, having fun, chasing their circle of friends.
Sam and Dean: noses and palms pressed against the glass, watching longingly, wanting to be part of the fun, to belong.
Sam's mouth opens, leaving mist on the pane. "Dean… What is it?"
His brother turns to him, peeling him from the glass of the aquarium.
"Big group of fish," he shrugs. "Think it's called a 'school'."
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Heeee!
