The receptionist stares at my chest as I hand in the key card. “What does your t-shirt say?”

I straighten my spine and pull my shoulders back. He slowly reads aloud: “’Cute. But. Crazy.’”

His smile widens. “Ha ha!” He looks at me and then at Matt. “And is she?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

The receptionist glances at me. I smile and raise my eyebrows. He waves the key card around. “Ha! … Huh.”

The three of us stand and smile in the purple lobby.

“Really?” He sounds less certain of himself now.

I nod.

“Certifiably so,” Matt confirms.

“Well! … So!” The receptionist’s eyes dart between us.

I put him out of his misery. “Thanks very much! It was great staying here!”

“You’re most welcome, it’s a pleasure!”

He is still talking as we walk out the door. “Have a safe journey! Thank you!…”

We giggle walking to the car.

“I love this t-shirt.” I puff my chest out. “I’ll wear it all the time!”


Two hours later.

On bus home.

Tears slide down my cheeks.

The adjacent seat remains empty.


I love this t-shirt. I will wear it all the time.