Part I

As the sound of the incessantly heartwarming ice cream truck rang throughout the neighborhood, I grabbed my scooter and yelled to my brothers:
ICE CREAM!
Stephen and Greg simultaneously ran out of the backyard, sprinting towards me as we chased the seemingly distant ice cream man. My mouth was already watering at the thought of Mr. Softee’s perfectly swirled cones, drizzled in sprinkles and topped with a red cherry. I was so focused on ice cream that I hardly recognized the unevenness of the sidewalk. Miniature potholes and steep slopes of cement made great jumping puddles during the fall when the rainy days outnumbered the sunny ones. During the summer, however, these hazards were a sure cause of injury. My mind was completely elsewhere; even as I was tumbling toward the ground, all I could think of was whether I should get chocolate with cherry dip or vanilla with rainbow sprinkles. I knew that I had fallen off my scooter, and I had definitely bashed my head against the concrete, but at the time, I was only upset because my fall had slowed me down. Grabbing my scooter off the ground and wiping the blood dripping from my forehead, I continued on my pursuit for ice cream. As I caught up to my brothers already contemplating their orders, I saw something almost more perfect than the ice cream I was about to get.
I have never seen such a pretty girl. She was about my age, maybe a little older, and around my height. She had tan skin from playing outside in the sun, and her face was scattered with freckles, mainly positioned on her button nose and under her eyes. Those eyes were a deep green with brown speckles, filled with excitement for the ice cream she would soon receive. Her hair was long like a princess and golden like the sun, smelling like a thousand flowers. Happiness emanated from her smile; as I gazed at her, I found myself smiling as well.
Those seconds of infatuation passed, however, because I was a mere ten years old at the time and I would inevitably get cooties from this girl if I got any closer. My eldest brother, Greg, told me about the horrors of girls and gossip, so I decided then and there that I would never involve myself with such. It was at that point that the tumble I had taken started to affect my vision and comprehension. Nothing really hurt, but I knew that I was going to pass out soon. I tugged on Stephen’s shirt, getting his attention. Once he saw I had hurt myself, he immediately realized what was happening. I never really understood the gravity of my condition; whenever I hurt myself, I assumed that I would be fine in a few minutes. The concerned looks on my brothers faces told me otherwise.
I had already ordered my ice cream (I had chosen chocolate with cherry dip) when I started seeing two of everything. At first I thought naïvely that I was getting two cones instead of one, but after that, all I remember is the faint sound of the ice cream truck rolling away as Greg and Stephen carried me home.

Part II

The last few seconds of junior year were ticking away right before my eyes, and once that bell rang, I would officially be a high school senior. I started at the clock, blatantly ignoring Ms. Boone’s lecture about being safe and reading for 10 minutes every day, and instead focusing on the unimaginable brevity of high school. Seniors in years past warned me to enjoy every second of my high school career, since it would be gone in a blink of an eye, but I never believed them until this moment. I still felt as though I was ten years old, playing outside without a care in the world.
The final bell rang and I grabbed my things to rush out into to warm and welcoming summer air, only to be stopped by Olivia. I could hardly wait to spend my summer with her, going to drive-ins and the beach and the county fair. As she spoke to me in those last few seconds, everything I believed to be secure and reliable was torn from me. My stomach churned, causing an indescribable pain within my heart. Air that once had passed through my lungs felt as though a vacuum had sucked it all out. A chill reverberated down my entire body, making me feel cold and sweaty. This sort of pain was nothing like I had ever felt.
We need to talk.
Those four words made me more nervous than I have ever been in my life. Liv spoke those words so calmly, as if everything she had on her mind was harmless, as if we were about to have a casual conversation. I loved her, I really did. She made me smile and laugh, more than anyone I had ever known. The fondest memories of high school were spent with her, the girl who I thought was the love of my life. I had met Liv’s entire family, attended reunions and birthday parties for miscellaneous relatives, and she did the same for me. Not a moment passed when I was with her that I regret. Some things, however, were just not meant to be. She would be a graduating senior, going far far away for college, somewhere in the midwest. I should have understood completely why she was ending things; there was no way for us to make it work. Though for some reason, I could not find a way to handle it.
I felt as though she was leaving me for other reasons, like for someone better or more handsome or more intelligent. I thought she hated me, wanting nothing to do with me. I wasn’t good enough for her, and that was the real reason she broke up with me in those last few moments of junior year. All I knew for sure was the never ending longing for her that tortured me, day and night. Great surges of anxiety came over me constantly, reminding me of how the girl that I wanted to spend my life with left me. It’s not your fault. She told me that we would still be friends, that we would keep in touch, that we would visit each other whenever we had the chance. Those words meant nothing, conquered by the underlying truth. It’s over.

Part III

Looking over at my clock for the third time in the past five minutes, I made the decision that the seconds hand was definitely moving slower than the last time I checked. It was only 10:37, but I felt as though I’ve been working for an eternity. Only my idiot boss would decide to keep a coffee shop open for 24 hours; unless you’re a crazy college student pulling an all-nighter, the average person doesn’t usually have coffee cravings at three in the morning. Despite the hours, it was a pretty alright job and it paid well. I’ve made many friends with the regulars and I’ve even gotten a few dates out of it. Phone numbers slyly written on napkins were not uncommon, along with flirting sipping on a latte or buying pastries just so they have an excuse to stay longer. I hadn't gotten one in a while.
I was a little more than startled when the bell signaling a customer rang at the door. The latest the customers ever came ranged around 9 o’clock, and even then it was usually a drunken straggler asking for directions to some bar down the street. I peered over to the foyer where a rain-drenched figure stood, obviously seeking refuge from the harsh conditions outside. She unveiled her hood from her bright blue polka dot rain jacket, and I could hardly believe my eyes. She had to be the most beautiful woman; even with her soaking wet hair and tired eyes, she appeared to have stepped out of a magazine. She had a kind smile, with crinkles around the edges of her rosy pink lips. Her face possessed some familiarity, as if we had seen each other at a restaurant or gone to the same kindergarten; I didn’t quite remember her exactly, but her face was not one I could forget. Realizing my obvious transfixion, I snapped back into reality and put on my working face.
Can I get you anything?
She politely shook her head no and sat down on a worn down couch from some flea market I had seen on my way to work. It swallowed her right up; she was so tiny, the couch looked as if it was supersized. Her body was overtaken my shivers, so I quickly rushed to the stockroom and searched for a blanket or something warm to cover her. I found some old blanket with Christmas trees on it and almost tripped over myself trying to get it back to her. I walked in, seeing her reading a magazine from a few months ago with half lidded eyes. Was it possible to be in love so soon?
It wasn't long until she was on her way; the rain had let up and it was getting late, and she showed clear signs of exhaustion. We had some small talk, she thanked me for my help, and then went on her way. Once she left, I couldn't help but feel alone. She kept me company for a good hour, but I felt as if she had been talking and laughing with me forever. I have never felt that way with anyone before. After she left, I missed her. I had only known shortly, if I can even say I knew her, but I longed for her company. I drearily cleaned up the counters and refilled the coffee grounds, imagining her laugh, with occasional little snorts and giggles, resounding throughout the shop. As I was leaving, I went back to the couch where she had sat before. There was a tiny slip of paper in between the cushions, and I leaned over to grab it. Scrawled on the scrap was a phone number.