He starts coming regularly now and you begin looking forward to his visits. He always comes around 5, just as the sun begins to fade, and coolness washes over the city. Every day, around that time, you find yourself becoming anxious to see him. He always comes alone and he always orders the same chocolate mint. Even though you guys don’t say much besides the usual, casual exchange, you’re always acutely aware of his presence in the store. It must have been two weeks or something that passed before you guys actually had a real conversation.

He came, at the same time as usual, and as if by routine, you begin scooping his ice cream once you see him walking through the door. Today, he comes in without saying a word. Instead, he slops over to the tables scattered around the parlor and grabs a stool. You watch him warily as he drags the stool over to counter and flops down. “Yo,” he finally says. You don’t say anything and hand over the ice cream. He gives you 6 bucks and you give him back the change. As usual, he throws the quarter into the nearly empty tip jar.

He makes himself comfortable on the stool. “Sup.” You debate whether or not you should stay at the counter where he’s just sitting there. There’s still some things left in the sink that needs to be washed but screw it, you think. You drag your stool over, and you sit, so that you’re directly facing him over the counter. “Sup,” you reply back.

“This place feels different today.” He pops his spoon into his mouth and spins around in his stool. His eyes are huge and he looks like a kid.

“It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool…” You don’t know what to say because the store feels the same as always.  But he doesn’t seem to notice your confusion. 

“Hey! Music is playing today,” he his ear and listens. “I know this song.” And then he sings a few notes.

You listen, and wow, his voice is absolutely stunning and amazing. You’re almost speechless and you want him to sing more, but he stops after a few words, and there’s silence again.

“Your voice. ,” you lie. You try to sound playful and carefree, but it comes out flat and serious. But if he was offended, he doesn’t show it. Instead he turns to you, a look of curiosity in his eyes.”How old are you?”

You blink, taken back, “Uh…why don’t you guess?” You grab his ice cream cup across the counter and you begin smashing the ice cream with his spoon. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him glance down  at what you are doing. He looks confused, but doesn’t question you.

“35?”

“Hey!”  Your head snaps up and your eyes meet his. You quickly look away and turn back to the ice cream you are mashing.

He laughs. “Just kidding…” You watch as he narrows his eyes and his imaginary beard in mock exaggeration. “21.”

“What the hell, you really are a creeper,” you shove his ice cream back across the counter. “How’d you know that?”

He shrugs and avoids your question. “Cool. I’m older than you so I guess you have to address me in honorifics.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure. So how old are you?” You have nothing to do with your hands now, so you grab a napkin and begin shredding it to pieces.

“23.” He takes the napkin from your hands and begins tearing it to pieces himself. You’re about to ask him why he did that, but you decide to overlook it. You grab another napkin and begin shredding that one too.

“College?” you ask.

“Just graduated. You?”

“Still in. Studying architecture.” You smile to yourself.

“I know.”

You stop shredding. “How?”

He shrugs. “Saw your textbook.”

“Creeper,” you repeat.

He doesn’t say anything. And you guys just sit, basking in the silence, basking in each other’s presence, both huddled over your little mountains of shredded paper napkins. You don’t know how much time has passed, when he finally says something. You look up, and see that the summer sunshine is fading and giving away to dusk.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hm?”

“What’s your favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Me?” You ‘re taken back with all these question he asks. “I actually… don’t know.”

“You know what’s mine?” he asks.

“Duh. Chocolate mint.”

“Nope.” He grins and pauses. “You know, if you were an ice cream flavor, you will be my favorite one.”

And then he gets up, and leaves. Just like that. And once again you’re left alone in the ice cream store, wondering, just on earth who this guy is, and why is he making you feel this way.