You spot them at the gas station. They're at the pump on the other side of yours. They get out of their car. One goes inside the small building, the other man sticks a card in the pump. Their car is an older than you are, but you can tell it's lovingly cared for. The men themselves aren't too frightening, but they do give off a strange air of intensity.
The man who stayed behind is leaning against the side of his car with his arms crossed tightly while the fuel pumps. The clicking of the machine is a backdrop in the silence of the station. It's only punctuated by the occasional passing car. He's tall, undeniably good-looking, but a little worse for the wear. His clothing is strange for the warm weather. He's wearing at least three layers of shirts, as if he's trying to wear as much as possible so he wouldn't have to carry it all. The other man was similarly dressed, you remember. You decide they must be living out of their car.
Your prolonged stares haven't gone unnoticed. The man catches your eye and tilts his head upward slightly in greeting. "Hey," he says briefly.
You mutter some kind of reply and look away quickly, embarrassed that you were caught observing. You turn instead to the door of the station where the other man is coming out with a bag of cheap food. They're brothers, you decide. They don't look terribly alike but the resemblance is there. This brother is even taller than the first, but his expression is softer and his movements more conscious. He smiles briefly as he passes you and you find it easier to return his greeting.
As you get into your car, you wonder if they're homeless. They have that kind of drifter look to them. Still, something about them makes you not want to look away, like somehow these two have more presence than other roadside strangers.
They tear out of the parking lot at top speed, leaving you to wonder where they're going. Then they're gone.