The line at the main lobby desk was gone.

A young clerk in a maroon vest stood sorting a plastic tray of leftover blue competition badges.

He was putting them into neat stacks of ten on the counter.

Claire walked right up to the laminated counter.

“I need to see the fax that canceled my motel reservation on Wednesday,” Claire said.

The clerk did not look up from the plastic badges.

“Those records are filed away in the back office, ma’am.”