I is for ice cream.

We took the long way, cruising instead along the riverfront with the windows open and the radio blasting. It was my penultimate day in town and I think you wanted to stretch the time we had left into the horizon, knowing as I didn't that this was the end of our journey. Across the causeway the sticky heat between us eviscerated with the ocean breeze, and with the sudden temperance our destination came into view. You pulled into the parking lot, a vast sea of asphalt approximately the same temperature as the sun, and gingerly we hopped to the graying shack, its wooden frame weathered by countless thunderstorms. Inside we laughed and held hands and I had a strawberry milkshake, and to this day I cannot fathom how that offended you.