“Actually, I came here mainly because I’m starving, and they have the best pizza in Massachusetts.” Ro looks to where I point next door. “They do?” she asks, disbelieving. I shrug. “According to a”—I look closer at the newspaper taped on the inside of the window—“1995 New York Times article, yes. And honestly, that place looks like it hasn’t changed since, so I think we’re in luck.” I pull open the door for her.
