Dean's shoes

by SAMsuperCASnaturalDEAN

This is something I had to write for English class about looking at shoes and determining how that person is based on their shoes. I did a write up on Dean. It's short and depressing. This cover image is not mine. Credit goes to owner. I would love feedback on how I am as a writer if you can.

Dean ran his fingers through his hair again. He's been on this road before, thinking about his life. His foot tapped on the wooden floor. He realized he was still wearing his shoes, which was better, incase he felt the need to bolt or hunt. They brought him though a lot, the shoes. Eight years of rain, snow, and miles of nothingness. His shoes couldn't bring him through emotionally.. He threw back the yellowish orange drink causing a burning sensation. He heard a knock on the door. It could be his brother, Sam, who about an hour ago decided to leave him this time for good. He needed his brother it was the only family he had knew. There was a second knock on the door eliminating the idea of it being Sam. He normally gave a warning knock before he entered the cabin. The third knock told him it was Cass, this best friend, he was probably here to check on him and Sam. He wished his brother was here again, he was always better with telling Cass what was going on. Tonight though he was alone. He thought about telling Cass to leave him, but that would give out the fact that he was there, then Cass would be persistent.

He heard the door open and he cursed to himself, "How could I be so stupid?" He thought, "I forgot to lock the door."

His friend entered the room holding a box which he placed on the table. Dean threw back another drink and rested his eyes on the wall.

"You okay?" Cass asked, but Dean didn't answer. His friend squinted his eyes and tilted his head as he did when he was confused. Instead of asking again he opened the box in front of him revealing pie.

"Cherry pie," His friend told him. Cass must've known something was amiss. He probably past Sam and noticed he wasn't driving the Impala. Known he was leaving him alone. His friend produced plated, forks, and a knife and cut him a piece of pie.

Both knew he wouldn't share his thoughts, maybe that's why Sam had left. Maybe when his shoes were too worn to carry him any longer, when he was too tired to remember why he hid those thoughts that kill him in the night he might tell them why he spent his days drinking himself to sleep.