Ice

In the early summer afternoon, I have an irresistible craving for ice cream.

At the back of the crowd is an ice-cream wagon.

I think your favourite flavour was lemon.

When I mistakenly bought orange, you got really angry with me.

At first she was so angry, but at the end he smiled and said.

"Orange wasn't bad though."

You were a genuine moody person.

Well, I liked that about you.

"Well, well next time it'll be lemon, I'll remember that."

In the end, the day when I would buy lemon-flavoured ice cream never came.

I don't know how long it's been since then, but the ice cream wagon always takes me back to that day.

I think it's some kind of connection, so I wade through the crowds and say.

"Lemon-flavoured ice cream, please."

It's my way of atoning for my sins.

I have to tell you, but it's not my favourite ice cream at all.

The ice cream is served haphazardly, glistening in the sun.

I look around and see a couple walking side by side.

I can't help but think of us from back then.

There's nothing in particular to do, but we get together and hang out aimlessly.

We bought tickets to a horror film, which neither of us liked, and ended up watching it.

That night, we felt extremely scared in an ordinary, familiar town.

Both of us have hyperhidrosis and neither of us usually wants to hold hands.

But just that one time, I was holding your hand as tight as I could.

You're the one who's yelling, "You scaredy-cat!"

"I think you were holding my hand tighter than I was."

'Hey, hey, the ice cream is melting .'

A little girl looks at me curiously.

Before I knew it, the ice cream had lost its shape and was quietly melting.

I gathered up my courage and took a bite.

The sweet and sour lemon gently melts on my tongue and disappears.

But rickets in my heart did not melt.

The days with you flashed back to me like a running light.

"What a delicious lemon-flavored ice cream."

But this will be the last time.

Thank you.