“You make it sound as if you’re homeless,” he said, not wanting to be direct.

“That’s right,” she responded, not one to beat around the bush.

They had met at the dollar store, she in the checkout line in front of him, and he’d offered her a lift.

“And you ride everywhere on that bike in the back?”

She had ridden from the other side of town and was buying what supplies she could afford to keep it working.

“It beats walking.”

“I suppose so.” Another question came to his mind, “So where’d you get the money?”

She looked down at her soiled outfit. “I sold my spare clothes.”

The truck rolled under another green traffic light as the sun sank lower in the dusky sky.

“You know,” he said. “You’re an attractive young woman. If you wanted money, you could have it.”

She gripped the door handle. “You can just let me out here.”

He smiled. “Relax. I just wanted to gauge your reaction.”

Her grip loosened. “Do I look like a prostitute to you?”

“No, no,” he assured her. “Just . . . people in your position can sometimes . . .”

“I didn’t sell myself,” she interrupted. “And I didn’t steal it either, before you ask.”

“Alright, alright. I get it.”

They stayed silent for a while, the only sounds the revving of the truck’s engine and the squeaking of its shocks.

He spoke again, “It’s getting late. Where will you sleep tonight?”

She thought for a moment before answering, “There’s a park up here with covered picnic tables.”

“Is it safe?”

“No,” she answered bluntly. “I’ve already had a guy steal my savings at knife point.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. I guess that’s why you had to sell your clothes.”

“Right.”

“At least he only took your money.”

“It’s up here on the right,” she said, changing the subject.

He drove past it.

“What are you doing?”

“Look,” he said. “I won’t give you any money, but let me at least offer you a room for the night.”

She eyed him critically. “With what strings?”

“No strings. We have a guest room, and,” he laughed a bit, “my wife is into coupons so we have an overstocked pantry. You can take what you need out of it.”

“You’re married?” she asked.

He held up his left hand, showing off his wedding band in the failing sunlight.

“What’s she like?” she asked, studying his face.

He smiled tenderly. “She’s the love of my life.”

After a moment more staring at him, she relaxed back into the seat. “I wouldn’t mind meeting her.”