"Dean. Dean!"
I paused halfway into the Impala.
"What?"
Hair bouncing, my little brother ran towards Dad and I. He nearly collided with an old couple in his childish obliviousness and came to a breathless halt at my door.
"Dean! There was this old guy in the rest stop," he gasped, his expression a mixture of confusion and humor, "...and I held the door for him, and he said: 'thank you, little lady!' He thought I was a girl!"
I laughed.
Dad grimaced.
"Sam, it's time for a hair-cut."
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