Lunch

[alynwa]

Illya was speechless.  He had never seen anything like it; he had never heard of anything like it.  His American partner was sitting at a table watching him with amusement as the Russian turned slowly in a circle to take it all in.

“Napoleon, this is wonderful!  Thank you so much for bringing me here.  I think this is my favorite place in all of New York City!  What is it called again?”

“Horn and Hardant’s Food Automat.”

Illya placed coins in a slot and pulled out a sandwich. “America is amazing,” he said before taking a bite.