“The clerk stuck a yellow clip on it.”

I opened the binder against the cold metal of the car.

The forty-two-dollar baggage fee receipt was stapled to the inside of the plastic cover, just above my official travel orders.

“They changed the route,” I said.

“I noticed that when I printed out the packet at five this morning,” Daniel said.

He checked his wristwatch before glancing at the traffic lane behind us.

“They pulled you off the direct transport flight.”