It was one of those I-just-cleaned-out-my-basement yard sales. Tables were littered with various knick-knacks and trinkets, from clothes to toys to cassette tapes. Many of the objects looked like they hadn't seen light for years, sealed up in storage, forgotten.
A man in a tan trenchcoat wandered through the rows of the items, running his slim fingers over the items, pausing at only a few, his electric blue eyes scanning them over before returning to his steady pace along the tables. Occasionally, he would pick an object up and hold it lightly, as if it would crumble in his fingers.
Castiel liked little items. Collecting trinkets from all over the country has been a hobby of his for a while now. He liked to imagine what the item's life was like, what it's been through. They all had their own stories, and Castiel liked to listen to them, even though they never spoke a word.
Castiel was examining a cassette tape of Kansas that he was considering getting for Dean when something caught his eye a few steps away. It was a pair of baby shoes. They were sitting amongst a variety of clothes and shoes, all in varying degrees of wear.
That's what struck Castiel as weird. The items around them were definitely used before, but the shoes looked like they had never been touched. He strode over to the table and picked up the shoes, gingerly, as if they were made of sand. Upon closer inspection, the shoes, in fact, had never been worn. They were clean, flimsy leather, like the shoes that a baby would wear before they started to walk. Little baby moccasins. Most of the shoe was a dark and smooth brown, with little pink flowers and a pink elastic strap, and an unpainted sole. Completely untouched, a little baby foot had never been placed into it.
Castiel stared at the shoes a bit harder, and tried to read their story. A baby died. A child never had, never grown up. A family never started.
He made a sad smile at the shoes. His grip hadn't changed. He brought them closer to his face, inspecting the little lines in the material. He breathed in the faint scent of brand new leather.
Castiel liked the shoes. Their story was strange, yet intriguing.
He decided to keep them.
With a small breeze, he flew away.
A single dollar was left in his place, in the empty space where the shoes once were. It fluttered slightly in the breeze.