Before the Storm, Calm
The trucker remained unfazed, methodically refilling his tank as if the insults were nothing more than background noise. His movements were smooth, practiced—completely unaffected by the verbal onslaught. It was almost eerie, the way he carried himself with such ease, not a single flinch or flicker of irritation. He simply handled the fuel pump with quiet confidence, his steady smile never wavering. The crowd watched, baffled, the tension thick in the air. Whatever was coming next, it felt like we were all holding our breath, waiting for the moment to unfold.
Before The Storm, Calm
Questioning Why
“Why’s he just standing there?” I whispered to Bill, my curiosity burning. It didn’t fit the usual tough-guy script—no fight, no pushback. Bill shrugged, eyes still scanning the scene. “Man’s got his reasons,” he said, offering nothing more. Meanwhile, the trucker just smiled, unfazed by the mean words hurled at him. There was something about his confidence, something we couldn’t quite grasp yet, but one thing was clear—he had the upper hand in a way we didn’t understand.
Questioning Why
