I met him in the back of a car in Bangkok.

Clear English. Calm voice. No filler. He spoke like someone used to conversations that needed to land correctly. Not rushed. Not careful. Precise.

The kind of speech shaped by rooms where words matter because decisions follow them.

At some point, without buildup, he mentioned he used to do something very different.

Contracts. Coordination. Long timelines. The kind of work where nothing moves fast, but when it does, it has to be right. Where mistakes don’t show up immediately — they arrive later, expensive and difficult to unwind.

He knew that world.

Not nostalgically.
Not defensively.

Comfortably.

Then demand slowed.

Not dramatically.
Not all at once.

Just enough.

The work stopped stacking. Calls came less often. Projects stretched and then quietly disappeared. No single moment to point to. Just fewer reasons to stay where he was.

Eight months ago, he started driving.

No pity story.
No long explanation.

He needed to support his family. Driving was available. It worked. That was the reasoning.

He didn’t talk about going back. Didn’t frame it as temporary. Didn’t sound surprised by the change.

It wasn’t resignation.

It was adjustment.

The car reflected it.

Clean, but not obsessive. Nothing out of place. No decorations. The seat, mirrors, and controls were set exactly for him. He didn’t fidget. Didn’t overcorrect. Didn’t react emotionally to traffic.

He moved through the city the same way he talked about work.

Steady.
Efficient.
No wasted energy.

Red lights were pauses, not obstacles. Congestion was a condition, not a provocation. He adjusted routes without comment, slipping onto side streets when it made sense, returning to main roads when they cleared.

There was no resentment in his voice.

No sense of loss being managed mid-sentence.

Just forward motion.

Some people endure by holding on.

Others endure by changing direction.

He fell squarely into the second category.

When the ride ended, he wished me a good day, pulled back into traffic, and disappeared into the stream of cars moving toward whatever came next.