He asked why hadn’t she gotten any ice cream. Didn’t she like it? She began her answer but stopped– watching as her spoken words hung in the air, then tumbled to the floor — exploding into poofs — he had walked away to mingle… His boisterous laugh could be heard above the crowd– she remembered him guzzling her, filling her with urges she hadn’t let herself feel in a while, like a month. I mean come on—he was a busy man, wasn’t he? And he did bring home the bread—and he never forgot their anniversary… Charlie fingered her engagement band—it had grown tight in the swollen summer heat, and her finger was beginning to grow numb. She studied the lattice printed onto her ice-cream cone, completely oblivious to the sticky dripping over her hand. Where was she? who was she She was completely overcome by the feeling that somehow the answer to all these questions lay within this lattice. He returned triumphantly with a double chocolate waffle cone, but Charlie was already gone. He playfully dove into his ice cream, being sure to accidently leave a dab on his nose. She didn’t notice. Her mind had ejected. He extrapolated. Hard. Rivers of vanilla cream flowed through her fingers and down her arm. Chocolate sprinkles flowed along her graceful forearm, and were flung to the ground by the vicious curve of her elbow. The cone cracked and splintered, her face continued its inscrutable stare, now becoming vaguely glaring. Fuckerface had forgotten about his ice cream, he had forgotten about the spot on his nose, he watched his fiancé, completely perplexed. He didn’t know, “What the…” He stammered, but could find no words.