Wells Fargo parking lot. This old guy approached to ask what year my truck was. I said '65 like I always do, smiling. He smiled back, told me the story of his own 64 Ranchero. And then he told me the story of how his wife's in a day facility now - onset of dementia. And then he told me the story of the house they own on 69th street, his wife's family home, and how no one's lived there for 30 years. And then how his son did the math and figured that they'd lost around $300k in income. And so now they're gonna rent it out. And so they're moving all the stuff out and all his wife wants out of the house is her father's old rocking chair.

And then he said well life goes on. And leaned a little into the car window and said you know what they say: leave hate to those who are too weak to love. You got that?

I nodded, sobbing behind my hip as fuck sunglasses. Good, and then he walked away.