During the time he lived in the city, the whole year and a few months now, he’d never seen him before. Through all the days of walking the streets and with all the hours on clock of working in the record store watching both the customers and outside world pass. He’d never met him. Never seen his face. Except for today.Why he’d gone outside, he didn’t know. Maybe it was because the day looked promising, nice in the aspect that he could enjoy it. Or maybe it was because of some weird fate that had subtlety ordered his being to venture from his apartment. Whatever it was, destiny or not, he’d gone. Out the door. Down the steps. Across the street to the ice cream parlor and next to some dude who was easily twice his size and could probably pop his head off without even trying. What had happened had come quick. So quick that he hadn’t even noticed it at first. As the line had moved and he had stepped forward to the register, he’d run into warmth,actually, the shirt of another’s back. In between that time point, somewhere along three to five seconds, there’d been some sort of noise. A splat to be exact. The kind of splat that all men and women knew and was one of the most heartbreaking of them all.Someone’s ice cream had fallen.When his form had come into contact with the bulky, totally over-shaped man that had been in front of him, there’d been a collision course. The momentum of the crash had caused the other to fumble a bit with his hands, slip slightly with a finger and then watch as his purchase had gone hurdling to the shop’s surface. The sound that probably only he and Craig himself had heard, was the death of the treat. The demise of the creamy strawberry, chocolate cake ice cream. The beginning of a tragedy.
As the silence broke the chatter and the whole store began to grow quiet in interest as to what would happen, the cynic turned his gaze from the fallen soldier to its commander; eyebrows coming into a slight furrow as to brace for a hit. To his surprise however, and most likely the whole crowd’s, the only movement that was made was a roll of broad, toned shoulders, and a small, almost bare whisper of,