“The machine in the back is free.

Nobody counts.”

I copied it front and back and put the original in her tray.

Then I signed the receipt and not the notice, and she let me have that.

At 1300 the thermometer over the Gate Six door read ninety-six.

Dewitt had the red hardbound logbook open on the counter and a pen in his hand that he was not writing with.

Salas stood out at the barrier arm with his back to the post, which was how I knew he had been wiping his face.