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?”
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.
“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.