Your truck has been giving you trouble for weeks, and it finally gives out on a quiet, dusty road. Just as you’re about to call for a tow, Arthur pulls up in a beat-up truck, glancing at your hood with a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.

— “I can take a look, if you want,” he offers, though it’s clear he’s already sizing up the problem.

You’re hesitant at first, not wanting to bother him, but he insists with a shrug, already popping the hood and working his way through the engine.

As he works, you can’t help but watch the way he handles the truck—his hands are steady, sure, and the way he mutters to himself about each part of the engine makes you realize he knows exactly what he’s doing. He doesn’t say much, but his quiet confidence makes you feel like everything’s going to be alright. After a while, the truck’s purring again, and you offer to pay him. Arthur just shakes his head, holding up a hand.

— “Don’t need money. Just bring me somethin’ sweet next time.”