He shakes his head.
"Aaron Burr," I say, "It was a duel."
For reasons I do not understand, the young man flexes his right arm's bicep, and looks at it. I feel like his response to my nerdy historical reference is to silently say, "Look at my muscles."
I continue my story, undaunted. "It was very sad," I say.
The young man does not respond. I take my pizza and hand the girl the ten dollar bill. The young man grabs my pizza box, as if he is going to take it. The girl takes it from him and hands it to me and gives me my change. And then I leave.
