A World Cup Without You
It was a message from Nola, containing a photo of Reid standing at a store counter with his head bowed, picking out a Portugal jersey.
The caption read: [He said he spent years wearing the wrong colors and now, he's finally switching back. Don't you think it's time you gave up a seat that was never yours, Ms. Whitley?]
I looked at the screen. I did not reply, and I did not block her. I just turned my phone facedown on the table.
The flight was already booked. It would leave in two nights, one hour before kickoff.
Reid said he did not know any better back then. That was fine. After this, everything would be fine again.