I was at a rest stop a few months ago with my dad, when a nondescript, middle-aged man filling his gigantic truck at the next pump started chatting us up. Dad went inside to pay for our gas. I was not interested in talking to the guy, but clearly he needed someone to talk at.
“Be careful not to get robbed,” he said.
Something was not right with this man, and I became nervous.
I shook my head and replied, “We don’t have anything valuable with us.”
He looked away from me at the sunset horizon. “You have something worth taking.”