He looked almost fine

He looked almost fine.

That's the thing.

His knuckles were red from the cold

and he was doing the thing people do

when they're doing fine—

talking a little too much

about nothing.

The receipt came out of the pump

and he took it, folded it once,

put it in his pocket without looking.

I thought about that later.

How you can take a thing

and not look at it.

How that's sometimes

the whole story.

The sky was white and low

the way it gets before it decides

what it wants to do.

He said take care.

I said you too.

He drove away

and I stood there holding the nozzle

a few seconds longer than I needed to,

watching the road

where his car had been.