The guy was short. Like 5-feet-tall short. He was filling up a white Chevy Suburban, and I stuck my head around the gas pump, a bitterly cold wind blowing all around us, and asked him my question. His hood kept blowing back off his head while he waited, exposing his bald head.
"Absolutely. You go right on ahead," he told me, not hesitating at all. So I prayed there, loudly, over the sound of the wind. "Thank you," he said, as he finished filling up with gas. We chatted for a cold moment. He said he wasn't going far, just down the street to his home. And then as he twisted his gas cap back onto his car, he said, "Thanks for doing that. We can't have too much of that." I agreed.
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