ice cream (5)

Later, it was empty chairs and unopened emails and the way her mother stopped singing while she cooked. It was also in the ice cream. Strawberry—her dad’s favorite.

He used to take her for a scoop after every softball game, win or lose. Said it made the losses feel smaller and the wins even sweeter. But now it just tasted like a trick. Like something pretending to be normal.

“You are allowed to be mad,” her mom said quietly. Ellie didn’t answer. She was mad. Mad that he left them without warning, heart attack collapsing him like a building.