I didn’t like the exercises I wrote today, so I’m putting up this one from 4/26:
No benches or planters near the Baskin Robbins, so we sat on the curb of the parking lot. My cone was nutty coconut, pure white and sweet with huge chunks of walnuts and almonds protruding from the surface. His was cookies and cream. We sat side by side in a red zone, our knees up under our chins, licking around the cones to catch the drips. They came fast on a hot August evening in Claremont. As the ice cream shrank down into the waffle cones, the conversation turned serious.
“So, shall we get married?”