“Is there anything in particular you'd like to see on the tour?” I asked after we got moving.
“Yes,” he noted aloud, nearly to himself, “the end.” A moment later, his eyes opened wide. “I said that out loud, didn't I?” I nodded. “Dreadfully sorry. Didn't mean it quite like that. I've been on this type of tour before you see and much of it becomes rather the same rather quickly. 'This is a hallway. This is a computer. Two hundred years ago, on this spot, a famous author once took a nap and here's the statue we have of the event.'” He shook his head. “Becomes rather trying.”
“Ah,” I noted seriously. “I suppose you won't be interested in seeing the garbage can Mark Twain once used, huh?”
He looked at me in horror. “Good Lord! You don't mean...?”
My smile formed almost immediately. “Just kidding. Couldn't resist.”
“Yes, well,” he grumbled. “Next time try a little harder to resist, hmm?” I coughed, erased the smile from my face, and apologized. We continued on.
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