“Give us just one more minute.” Flynn holds up the same hand that has the Sharpie to the woman. He angles his body, so his back is to the rest of the line. “It’s so good to see you again. I was hoping I’d run into you.” He picks up a shirt off the table. “Turn around.” “What?” He makes a circle motion with his finger. I turn, still too stunned to object. He places the shirt against my back, and I feel the marker as he scribbles on the material. “Is this going to be a regular occurrence or a one-off event?” I ask.
