No way, I thought, thumb hovering over my screen. There’s no way he could have… But he had. When I swiped, I was treated to nineteen-year-old Wit Witry full-on imitating little Meredith Fox. Just like me, he had a blue napkin tucked into his shirt collar with a heavy mortar of guacamole on the table in front of him, and also like me, he’d taken a glob and smeared it across his smiling face. My stomach swooped.
