celeste

You sit on the seaside, talking of amputated mermaids. She’s faced your way, away from the calming waves, seemingly edging you further onto the ragged concrete pier. Her look changes as she starts,

I’m gonna fucking do it.

You slowly come back to consciousness as you tilt your head in confusion.

Do what?

She takes her left wrist with her right and bounces it up and down.

Break my arm.

What?

I’m gonna do it.

What, don’t! Why?

The scene goes black as you open your eyes to her in a cast, walking past you.

Ah, Kris…

She briskly walks away as you see him slowly walking along the pier, teetering left and right as he balances with his arms. He stops and gazes far off past the horizon.

Tel!

He doesn’t turn around, and the next moment you are next to him, walking on the plank now, next to the pier.

Kristen, she…

You try to talk to him. He keeps walking, step, after step.

She broke her arm, and…

What?

Kristen…

The sea is still, isn’t it.

He keeps looking forward. Besides a small shrubbery a few paces forward, she sees nothing he could possibly be fixated on.

But…

He abruptly stops and turns to face you. You jump a little, heels caught on the edge.

Do you want to get ice cream?

He jumps off the pier and lands on his toes, extending his hand behind him; beckoning you to follow. You slowly climb down and place your hand in his. The two of you walk slowly past the parked cars and up the wooden stairs to the ice cream van. With a light blue motif, the mobile kiosk radiates an amiable, yet reserved personality.

Hi!

The man has a white bandana with navy design, his head hairless underneath; a green-brown shirt on, and a white apron around his waist. On the elevated counter is a menu on the left and a container full of chocolate chips on the right. The shopkeeper stoops down to look at the two through the small window, but eventually sticks his head through, scanning the two of them. He starts to speak, next to you.

Hi. I actually own that other van.

He lets go of your hands and points to an object down the road. It seems to be falling apart, with a rusty and crooked roof, a flat tire, the white color fading on the sides.

I thought I’d come to my competitor’s and give it a taste.

Well, well.

He pulls his head back into the van, fists on his hips and a full grin on his face. He looks at you. You try to smile.

…

You are sat at a round table next to the parking lot now, as you watch him eat his pistachio ice cream.

Cold.

He remarks, and continues. You’re clasping his left arm with your hand. His hand is too far away for you to reach. An Asian girl, possibly in her adolescence, sits next to him with her blue ice cream and starts licking, staring at you. You sit there, dumbfounded. You see yourself from above. The waves have subsided to small intervals. The sun is setting.

A little too cold for ice cream, no?

You shrug it off and close your eyes.

Related posts:

In the third chapter of James Cooper’s book, The Last of the Mohicans, we see two Native American men and one White man on amicable terms. The White man, known as Hawkeye, is donned in Native…

There is a pace that is about right. One we can hold for a long time. Sometimes we speed up. Other times we slow down. Endurance is never flat out. Endurance is patience. The reflex to go fast —…

Where does confidence come from? Most people would say it comes naturally but it comes from experience. Experience helps you learn so much about the world and about yourself in so many ways. The more…