I showed him my receipt per protocol as lazy proof that nothing was stolen. His doddering hands take it from me while his yellow highlighter scans the list of five items. He smells of motor oil and tools, scents that mess with my head and emotions. His face wields a cigarette-stained beard and an endearing oversized nose that makes any man more handsome. His energy is gentle and his spirit tired. His name badge reads Dutch. Dutch shouldn’t be here. He should be sitting on his porch, humming a tune, and smoking a pipe with old reliable laying at his feet. His days are numbered and here he stands, day after day, receipt after receipt. He draws a line on the paper and hands it back. “Have a nice day, young lady,” he says in the shaky voice I expected. “You, too,” I reply as I leave. He’s all I think about as I walked through the parking lot to my car. Which vehicle is his? Probably that old beat-up pickup truck over there with the white camper and chipped red paint with patches of rust that match his beard. What did he do before skimming receipts? Probably something still requiring the use of his hands, but more nitty gritty. Something that attests his perseverance and work ethic. Something that made him feel worthy. Maybe a sailor. Maybe a fisherman. With a name like Dutch, he belongs at sea. Even in hard labor, he’s a kind soul, putting others before himself. A man’s man with calloused hands and a heart of gold. All he ever yearned for was a simple life with simple ethics: Work hard, love hard, rest easy. His wife passed years ago and in the evenings he lives with her in nostalgia. He does smoke that pipe on his porch, recalling her face with each puff, the glow of her skin as the sun cast down on their bed in the mornings and the feel of her lips as she kisses him goodnight. Thoughts of her tenderness are what keeps him warm in the cool evenings as he stoically waits to embrace her again, humming the Carnival of the Animals.

I smiled with a breaking heart as I got in my car. A happy breakage, though, because if his fleeting days are lived in the beautiful memories of his once beautiful life, then every day he lives in the ephemeral blink before death knowing every day he’s closer to seeing her again. I hope it goes something like this.