28
Dr. Armando Fontaine had selected a dimly lit booth near the back corner in the basement of the Grind House. Even though it was 3:00 PM, you would never know it - the room was dark and full of over-caffeinated hipsters, depressed students and aspiring artists. Music was playing at a loud volume, and Armando was thankful for that. The music was just loud enough to conceal their conversation from other patrons, but not too loud - so they could easily have a chat.
He started scribbling some ideas in a pocket-sized notebook. For the last few days Armando hadn’t written a single word. For a man who routinely typed ten to twelve pages a day, it was insane to think he hadn’t thought of a single word to commit to the page.
The Lily affair was clearly weighing on his mind.
Melanie arrived, s
