“You drove all night again, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
She shook her head, smiling through emotion, then linked her arm through mine and led me toward the family section like I belonged there.
That was Emma. She had never been ashamed of my boots, my tired face, or the truck that had paid for groceries, braces, college applications, and the shoes she wore to her first ROTC interview. Truckdriver accessories
But other people noticed.
Clean suits. Expensive watches. Pressed dresses.
Then me.
A trucker in a flannel shirt.
Being dismissed has a sound. It is not always laughter. Sometimes it is only a pause before people decide you do not matter.
Emma squeezed my arm.
“You okay?”
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