the icecream man drove down my street today. with the medieval, sombre yet joy-instilling song echoing into suburban houses, enticing and exciting little ones. and me. 

i stood on the balcony and watched as pedro drove slowly past. the song evoked pleasant memories of a childhood sweetened by icecream men, just like pedro. his door was open as he drove by.

but, no children were on the streets today. no one ran out. no soft serve was served, no sprinkles sprinkled. pedro drove by, his song becoming another childhood memory. fading. distant. gone.


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