She's had stories like this of her own before, Faye supposes. Stories she used to tell, of how avidly she watched reports about the latest developments in space, or of pen pals, or of childhood friends all splashing in a fountain together under the summer sun. But it all feels distant now, halcyon days hidden somewhere deep, where it aches to pull them out at all. Listening to Dean calms her, in its own way. Sometimes, it's just easier to picture the lives of others.

"So was it love at first sight for you?" she asks curiously, arm curved around her knee, too little space in the opening to squeeze her way up there without it being a tight fit. "Or is it the memories? If I remember correctly, Chevrolets were pretty big cars."