Harvard's ice cream parlor, 2005

This story is only beginning.

The kid narrowed his eyes, evidently thinking. I could just see the gears whizzing in that little brain of his. Yawning, I snapped my fingers.

"Hurry up. I can't wait all day." His brow creased.

"I can't decide between the 'Walnut Razz Jazz Matazz', or the 'Auntie Jane's Famous Cherry Berry Apple Pie' flavor. Do you have any suggestions?" I shrugged, cursing the coincidence that those were my favorite flavors too.

"They're both kinda gross. No idea why you would want them, but everybody to his own tastes,  I guess. If I were to choose, I'd go with Auntie Jane's." I couldn't bring myself to say the whole thing. Great ice cream, cheesy name. His face cleared.

"Great! I'll have two scoops please!" I folded my arms. "Cone or Bowl?" "Bowl." I grudgingly opened the freezer, plopped two scoops of the beautiful (now wasted) ice cream in one of the cheap paper cups, and slid it across the laminated counter. "It's 1.75." He placed the money on the counter, and took the bowl. "Wow. Gee, thanks Danielle." I gritted my teeth. "Sure thing." Hold on.  Slow down. Let's start at the beginning, where this story really starts.

The End

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