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He walks past her, bladder full, on his way to the men’s room.
Take me with you, she says.
Into the men’s room. I want to see the urinals.
She says this like she is a child who has just heard there is a Monkey House at the zoo and wants to tag along. The heel of her shoe is broken. She sits on the hotel lobby floor, twirling the pair by their sling back straps with her pointer finger.