Wondering Why
“Why’s he just standing there?” I whispered to Bill, a sense of curiosity gnawing at me. It didn’t make sense—he wasn’t even attempting to defend himself. Most people would have snapped back by now, especially under such a barrage of insults. But the trucker, oddly enough, seemed unaffected, and it was throwing off the whole tough-guy narrative we expected to play out. It was as though he had no need to engage, and that uncertainty left a strange feeling in the air.
Bill didn’t offer much, just a shrug, but his eyes were still locked on the scene, scanning every detail. “Man’s got his reasons,” he said cryptically, his tone thick with unspoken knowledge. There was something unsettling about how the trucker’s smile persisted, unchanged and unbothered by the verbal assault. It was growing increasingly apparent that whatever was unfolding here, the trucker was playing a different game, one in which he already seemed to hold the upper hand—though none of us could figure out how, just yet.
