Your mind drifts back to sun rays, ice cream, and Mama’s smile. A desperate attempt to dull the ache.
Father squeezes your shoulder; brings you back. In your mind, ice cream melts on the pavement. Mama is gone; pain fills her absence. The barricade you’ve tried to build falls again.
He has never cared about your favorite flavor.
You can hear the shovel. The sound of dirt hitting wood. Someone is crying.
You allow the current of time to take you back.
She hands you a cone. Vanilla.
The sun is warm.