“So why walk now?” I asked. He blinked, like the question needed to travel a longer distance to reach him. “It’s quieter,” he said, then added, “I like when it’s quieter.” He glanced past me, down the empty road. “The air’s different.” That wasn’t an answer. Or maybe it was, just not to the question I’d asked.
“You got ID on you?” I said. “Yeah,” he replied immediately. He smiled—small, polite, almost relieved—and patted his jacket. Then he stopped. His hands hovered there, unsure. He didn’t keep searching. He didn’t pull anything out. He just stood there, smiling like the rest of the motion would happen on its own. I waited. Nothing.