Though he's obscured--by swirls of snow, by flashing police lights, and so often by the arm of an officer pushing his hands back up to the proper position--I can here and there see his face.

Looking towards me.

I shrug helplessly, warm in my car, relief that neither car is damaged and no one is hurt melting into amazement.

He's being arrested?

I hit him.

But apparently he's got no license.

Timing's a bitch.