19
Lily
Matteo recommended a little Vietnamese street hawker a couple of blocks away, but as we started to walk, the squally hot wind and our stinging eyes made the decision for us and we ended up choosing the closest option, a Food Ink outlet. Pricier than I would have liked, but at least it was bright and cheery. Bright and cheery, just like Matteo’s words weren’t.
“I don’t want to discuss this any further,” he said, “but it’s important you don’t contact me again in the courtroom. It makes me look unprofessional and could harm David’s case.”
I had nothing useful to say, so I nodded, and we walked in silence.
Ahead on the sidewalk, a man and woman were panhandling passers-by, showing those who stopped a hologram. Matteo noticed and he gently pushed against my forearm, directing me aw
