"Okay." Sent. Or tweeted, whatever it was. Still, he was glad she had leave. Was still here. He scratched his chest, stood up, put his shirt on, buttoned the front and a few of the cuff buttons on either sleeve, left it untucked, put on his new shoes. His old ones were more comfortable, but they wouldn’t go with whipcord. He went to the door, tried it. Not locked. He hadn’t thought it was. The driver whooped, twice.