And I Can't Cry

And I Can't Cry

The colors of the cartons ran the spectrum. Their combinations bright and alluring. Their flavor profiles tinged just so to entice. But Louise could only stand and stare. Though she wasn’t staring at the ice cream, just beyond it. Some would say she wasn’t looking at anything.

“Can I help you?” squeaked the clerk as she passed Louise for the fourth time in just as many minutes.

Louise slowly blinked out of her trance and turned to the clerk, sniffed, then sniffed again. “No, no it’s alright.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

“Breakup?” asked the clerk, setting aside the items she was returning to their shelves. “Or something else.”

“Both. Neither.”

“I’ve had that.”

Louise turned back to staring at the ice cream and just sort of settled in place. Her head to the side, her arms hanging loose, her bag at her feet. 

The clerk cracked open the freezer with that ever satisfying hiss pop creak that comes from a well sealed door. The glass frosted over and hid the clerk as she rummaged with in. She came out with two ice cream sandwiches, and promptly unwrapped them.

“These are some of the best medicine,” she said holding one out to Louise. “Know what’s even better?”

“A hug?”

The clerk chuckled, and said, “well yeah obvs. But I was going to say eating these outside in the sun with someone who’ll listen.”


Today’s art is courtesy of Magdalina Dianova from Sofia, Bulgaria.

War Paint & Propaganda

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