The Old Man looked at the Officer’s hand on the door.
Then toward the road.
Then back.
“I’m willing to step out.”
“Good.”
“But I need the cane.”
The Officer reached inside.
Grabbed it.
The Old Man immediately tightened his hand around the curved wooden handle.
“Let go.”
The Officer pulled harder.
The Old Man did not.
“Let go of the cane.”
“I need it.”
“You’re not listening.”
The Old Man’s voice became quieter.
“I am listening very carefully.”
That made the Officer angrier.
He yanked.
The cane slipped free.
The Officer tossed it onto the passenger seat.
The Old Man stared.
For the first time, something sharper appeared in his eyes.
Not fear.
Disapproval.
The Officer pointed.
“Out.”
The Old Man put one hand on the door frame.
Then another on the seat.
He moved carefully.
His left knee was stiff.
Old damage.
Not visible until he stood.
The Officer watched impatiently.
“Come on.”
The Old Man rose halfway.
His knee buckled.
He caught the roof.
The Officer grabbed his upper arm.
Hard.
The Old Man looked down at the hand.
Then up.
“Release my arm.”
The Officer tightened his grip.
“You almost fell.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why I grabbed you.”
“I’m standing now.”
The Officer did not release.
The Old Man repeated:
“Release my arm.”
The Officer leaned closer.
“You don’t give me orders.”
The Old Man’s face became completely still.
“No.”
He looked directly at him.
“But I can tell you when you are hurting me.”
The Officer held him another second.
Then released abruptly.
The Old Man stood beside the car.
He reached toward the passenger seat for his cane.
The Officer blocked him.
“Leave it.”
The Old Man stared.
“I have told you twice that I need it.”
“You’re standing.”
“Badly.”
The Officer folded his arms.
The Old Man looked toward the hood of the sedan.
Then placed one hand on it for support.
He said nothing else.
The Officer began circling him.
“Where are you going?”
“North.”
“Where north?”
“An inspection site.”
“What kind?”
The Old Man paused.
“Work.”
The Officer laughed.
“You working?”
“Yes.”
“At seventy-two?”
The Old Man looked at him.
“Apparently.”
The Officer scanned the plain charcoal shirt beneath the old man’s jacket.
Worn trousers.
Old sedan.
Wooden cane.
Nothing impressive.
Nothing that answered the question.