Two children had just finished racing each other and were running off when Dom approached, Styrofoam bowl in hand. He seemed irritated; Kiko wondered whether he’d run into Sander, too, but decided against asking. He did not particularly care to have an argument here, now.
“What’s that?” he asked instead when Dom approached the window.
“Your lunch,” said Dom, pushing the bowl across the wooden counter. Kiko took it but set it aside. What he really was was thirsty; it was hotter in the stand than expected, the shade not helping much. “Chili sample. Going to want more than one bowl?”
“What I really want is some water,” said Kiko. “Think you could bring me a bottle from one of the food stands before you leave again?”
“Good idea,” said Dom, then promptly turned and left. When he returned he
