He thought about it, and then he added, smaller:
THE CRABAPPLE STILL FRUITS.
He put the notebook back in her lap. She was already asleep.
Daria walked him down. Neither of them said anything on the stairs. In the lobby she stopped by the vending machines, and he stopped too, and they stood there in the fluorescent light with the automatic doors opening and closing on nobody, triggered by the wind.
"I'm not going to read it tonight," she said, touching the pocket of her fleece. "The note."
"That's probably wise."
"I don't know if I'm ever going to read it." She looked out at the dark lot, where his bike stood alone under a sodium lamp. "I had a whole speech. Did you know that? For you. I wrote it on Sunday night after I finished adding up the money. I was going to say it to you in the hall if you ever showed up again. It was really good. It had a part about the Family Dollar. And then she goes and does that in there and now I don't know who to say it to."
"You could say it to me anyway. I'd stand here for it."
"I know you would. That's the problem." She almost smiled, and didn't. "Where are you staying?"
"I hadn't thought about it. I figured I'd find a motel or ride to Elko."
"You're not riding to Elko at ten at night. There's deer all over 93." She heard herself say the number of the highway and stopped. Then she went on, flatly, "The Prospector's got rooms. Tell Jun at the desk I sent you. He'll give you the rate."
"Thank you."