55: The luck of being unlucky

“Thank you,” I say to the ice cream man who just handed me a strawberry ice cream along with my change and he flashes me a radiant smile. 

I discovered this place sometime last week, and it’s been the only place I’ve gotten strawberry ice cream that tastes almost like the one Aliyah used to make Ken and me. I’d still pick hers any day over anyone else, but since I can’t get hers now, this would suffice.

It’s now lunch break, and while the rest four are at the company’s lunchroom getting their own food, I stepped out and get ice cream instead and meat pie. I also needed the breath of fresh air. Being cooked up in my corner barely gives room to even a stretch of one’s leg, but with this, I stretch my leg, breathe in the fresh air and admire the view of the city side. Three birds with one stone.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and lowering my head, I dip my hand in to pick it out. 

I slow down on my steps as I stare at my screen to see a message