“It’s... a ring,” I said.
“You’ll need to remove it.”
“I can’t.”
The agent raised an eyebrow. “You can’t remove your ring?”
“It’s stuck.”
Behind me, I heard Athena’s voice: “It’s his wedding ring! We just got married. Isn’t that romantic? The universe made sure it wouldn’t come off. Like a symbol of our eternal bond.”
The TSA agent looked at me.
I looked at the TSA agent.
“Congratulations,” he said flatly.
“Thanks,” I said, equally flat.
He waved me through.
I collected my bag, my shoes, my laptop, and what remained of my dignity, and headed toward the gate.
Athena caught up to me, practically skipping.
“See? Even the TSA recognizes our cosmic connection.”
“The TSA recognized that I had a ring stuck on my finger.”
“Same thing.”
It was absolutely not the same thing.
We reached the gate.
I checked my boarding pass: Seat 14A.
Window seat.
Good.
I could stare out the window for six hours and pretend I was anywhere else.
Anywhere at all.
“What seat are you?” I asked, not because I cared, but because I needed to know how far away from me she’d be sitting.
She checked her phone. “14B.”
Of course.
Of course she was in 14B.
Right next to me.
Because the universe had a sense of humor and hated me personally.
“Great,” I said.
