248 - parking

oratio grunted as he handed his clipboard to the chipper volunteer behind the table at the check-in station. The woman quickly looked it over, and then placed it in the pile with all the others. The woman's fingers picked through the pile of name tags until she found the one that belonged to Horatio. "Here you go, please clip it somewhere on the upper-left portion of your shirt," she said with a smile. Still, the firmness with which she delivered the instructions indicated that they were to be strictly followed.

Horatio nodded as he took possession of the tag, turning away from the woman at the fold-out table under the pop-up tent. He briefly looked it over while it still resided in the palm of his hand. A bold, all-caps typeface displayed his full legal name under even larger text reading "VISITOR."

The picture of him was typical of photos on government-issued IDs—bad. His stubby fingers worked to pinch the clip open and secure the tag to the breast pocket of his faded work shirt, thereby fulfilling the guidelines given to him by the lady at the table. He released the clip, allowing it to latch onto the fabric at the top of the pocket, tugging the pocket's opening downward slightly.

Horatio caught a glimpse of the pack of cigarettes that resided within that pocket. Not that he ever had many moments in his life that couldn't be improved by a smoke, but Horatio nevertheless ruminated for a moment on how much the current situation would be improved by a long, long drag.

Tobacco would have to wait, as it so often did these days. Looking up from his affixed name tag, he immediately caught a glimpse of hers. Identical, save for her picture and her first and middle name. At times, Horatio still felt an odd mix of emotions when he was reminded of the fact that she had kept his last name.

Pride, perhaps, that she felt some part of him was worthy of holding onto. Regret, of things that they had both lost. Shame, for not living up to their potential. Maybe it was none of those things at all, he thought. The feeling was hard to pinpoint, especially the more he thought about it.

Something, though, he reassured himself. Horatio sighed from the strain of feeling whatever that something was. "You ready?" he asked. She nodded.

They moved toward the entrance, walking together at a close distance, the way people do when haunted by shadows of familiarity. The guard motioned them through the main gate, but they made little progress beyond that point. The line for the security check was quite long.

Horatio stood by her side as the line shuffled forward at a slow but steady pace. He once again was unable to pinpoint his feelings as he watched some of those ahead of them struggle with the procedures. Jealousy, perhaps, that for them the monthly visitations had not yet become another routine whose motions could be easily run through. Sadness, for their tribulations might be only beginning. Hope, because Adam's sentence was more than half-served. The road ahead might be easier than what they had already traversed.

There they went again, he sighed. All the thoughts in his head getting mixed up. He scratched idly at his thinning hair as he shot a side-glance to the woman who still bore his name. They had long ago run out of things to talk about, especially in this setting.

For all their differences, Horatio knew the same thoughts bubbled up endlessly as they got closer to the metal detector and the X-ray scanner. Was this their fault? Was there something they could have done?