Tired heads lined up underneath the track lighting of the spa and waited for their turn. From the back of the line Alex could make out the folding table that the men trudged toward. On top of the table gold-colored envelopes sat in a neat stack. The line of men lurched ahead like a prison march as he waited his turn. Hustled husbands were pressed bellies to backs. One at a time they handed their money over to a girl sitting next to Jessi who passed a form to her before she inscribed the names of lovers on gift certificates in looping script. The holiday season had arrived.

            “I meant to get her something sooner,” a man in front of Alex said to his friend, “but with work and all.”

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