Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Ice Cream and Change

He started throwing change at me from across the room. I could've gotten mad but instead I got an ice cream. The heat does these things to people. Some people pull out guns, others rolls of quarters. I wondered if he went to the bank earlier, if he expressly got these quarters just for this, or did he have them lying around. Did he know that all I wanted on a summer day was an ice cream. Safe assumption that. It was dripping down my fingers, mint chip, and I couldn't get to it fast enough. When I licked it up I could taste it, the metal. Trace leavings of alloys on my fingers, dirt from I don't know how many decades. It wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't what I wanted. Still, I made do. There was leftover change in my pocket, cool to the touch. I could have kept a whole quarter in my mouth, let the mint chip fade away around it, but I didn't. I thought about it though. On a day hot as this I'd do most anything long as it would cool me down.

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