Dean picked up the old leathered journal from the worn shelf of Bobby's house. The faded red cover was coated with dust but the hardcover was intact. He stared at the book for a while, fingers brushing over the edges.
Dean was scared. He was afraid of what he might find inside.His quivering fingers slowly lifted the red cover. On the first white page, were quite a few scratches of ball pen and underneath was written, a simple line with beautiful handwriting : 'The first ever scratch of pen by Dean, my son."
Under that line was a date that Dean could not remember, because he was too young to remember that day. A wave of bursting tear blurred his vision as he stared at those letters, those quiet symbols of unabashed love of his father, who never spoke a single word of love to him.
All those repressed emotions, pain of loss and emptiness came crushing over him. Dean looked up with warm tears in her eyes and said, "Dad! how could you leave me like this, all alone!! I didn't even get to say goodbye!!"