H is for Hansen's.

It was your idea to escape, to ditch our classes and disappear without a word. We drove up Tchoupitoulas in silence, stealing glances at each other along the bumpy street until you sidled the car into an empty parking space. The late spring day was blue and gorgeous, one of the last before that thick layer of humidity rolled out and blanketed the city until Halloween. You bought us both a sno-ball--wild cherry for me, bubble gum for you--and we sat silent side by side on the curb long after our cups were empty. The pressure of your knee against mine gave me goosebumps, and I swear I meant to kiss you that day but I didn't. If given the choice again I'd leap, and so with every leap that's mine to make I think of you.