He was sent on his way to buy ice cream. On the left, the downwards sloping formation of crags led down to the anchored sailboats lazily rocked by sleepy waves. Far off to the right was the red cobblestone road surrounded by fast food shops. The sweet piquant smell of General Gau's chicken wasn't really picked up by the breath of the wind to be carried down to the crags, and yet a smell of something fried wafted in the breeze. He felt a twitching in his feet and carried by the impetuous wind, those gears got going and set the machine of his movement in motion. She followed behind, her yellow skirt sticking tightly to her legs. He saw her from the corner of his eye; a vague figure with swinging arms, a black cap, and dark brown sunglasses.

His eyes turned away from her and squinted as they followed the sun's sudden illuminations of small dark rocks on the ground. The rocks were bright for a few seconds and then as the sun retreated plunged into darkness. And then there was her black cap right in front of the ice cream shop counter, her pale scurrying hands shifting around coins. A few seconds later, he watched her walking away but the only thing he paid attention to was the gleaming white scoop on the regal cone. In broad, fast steps he annihilated the distance between them; her back was within his arm's reach. Were his hand to slither around, it could seize the creamy scoop like an elephant trunk a peanut. In the freeze frame of that moment, the splat of the vanilla ball on his forehead and its trickling down his tee shirt like sweet raindrops happened before she turned around to face him. But that wasn't right; she had to have first turned around and swung her cone-holding hand like a pitcher winding up to throw his ball.

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