“Time to say goodbye,” he said.
I stood there, watching him, as I licked my ice cream cone. “Yeah,” I answered, offhand. “It’s getting late, I guess.”
“I don’t mean it that way. I mean -- goodbye. For good. We are over.”
My tongue stopped in mid-lick. I felt a rushing noise in my ears, like the tide had suddenly washed all over me. I glanced at the beach. Low tide.
“What?”
“We need to be realistic, Daisy,” he said. “I’m going to school a thousand miles away. You are staying here.”
I noticed some of the ice cream was starting to drip off the side of the cone. I licked to try to save the mess, but it was too late. My favorite sweet treat at the shore was coming undone, all over my hand, dripping onto the boardwalk, the sprinkles too, a horrible melting monster.
I watched him turn and walk away, then gave up on the ice cream cone. I tossed it into the trash, wiped my hands, and went home.
