AEM.

We packed a truck for a guy moving back to Arkansas yesterday.

His father was there. He had a camera hanging from his neck, and suspenders holding up his jeans, over his t-shirt. He was hard of hearing, and any time I said anything to the father, he just looked at me. Every response was slow, brief, and through gritted teeth. At one point, I asked if he had a knife, so I could cut some rope. He replied that he did not carry a knife anymore, because he was sick of them getting confiscated on airplanes.

Being the judgmental person I am, I thought him to be uneducated and a bit backwater. Ironic I suppose, considering my own occupation.

But then I guess he took a little walk and saw something on the dashboard of our own truck. He came back and said "You know, a Thousand Splendid Suns is depressin' as all get out."

"I...know. I...just finished it."

"Somehow, it's even more depressin' than the Kite Runner."

For the rest of the job, he sat outside, watching me pack the truck, and we talked literature. We didn't get too deep into analysis, but he was more well-read than most of the people I know.

I couldn't help but smile at this old man, with suspenders over his t-shirt, who didn't carry knives anymore because of the TSA.

Thank you, Mr. Jones. You reminded me to Always Expect More out of people than you can tell by first glance.