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Strawberry Ice Cream

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“Strawberry didn’t suit you anyway,” you said to me that day at Ben and Jerry’s after knocking me over. I disliked you and found you very rude. Then you replaced my strawberry ice cream with chocolate.
I knew we would get along.

Now, we stand together on the cliff on which we have stood every night for the past two weeks, waiting for the sun to come up. Te wind dances through your hair and tugs at your shirt, exposing the statue-esque body underneath. I may have loved you for a short time, but if I did, I don’t remember. I always found it funny how our age difference, seven years and sixty-three days (to be exact), never came up in conversation. Come to think of it, neither did our names. They weren’t needed, I suppose. We knew where the other would be at a certain time and we were there. No questions asked.
“I’m leaving tomorrow,” you said, interrupting my thoughts. I wanted to ask where you were going, and why, but I felt that somehow, that wouldn’t be appropriate. You don’t make conversation a habit, but what you told me explained the ample silence tonight.
I always felt a certain pride about meeting you on this cliff at night t was if I had done something great, when merely, I met a stranger on the highest point of our small town, at night, alone. It was secretive thrilling, and highly personal.
Feeling a sudden change in the atmosphere, I looked up and saw the sun approaching the horizon, announced by a splash of color on the otherwise black sky. In an attempt to mask my disappointment, I breathed in the wind assaulting my face, the icy air racing toward my lungs.
“Well,” you said with quiet regret, “it’s time for us to go.” You turned to leave, but I stayed, transfixed on the sadness I knew I would soon feel.
“Madeline,” I said suddenly.
“What?”
“I said ‘Madeline. That’s my name,” I said, wishing I had never said it after it was greeted with silence.
I turned to find you staring at me, drinking in my features as if—as if you would never see me again. Then, as if you had just heard what I said, you nodded in understanding, your brown eyes smiling dimly.
I tore my eyes away from you as you turned to leave; I refused to watch you go.
“Madeline.”
I jerked my eyes upward to see you standing thoughtfully. My name sounded wonderful on your lips; I couldn’t help but to smile. You returned the smile, saying with it your almost inaudible goodbye:
“Strawberry didn’t suit you, anyway.”



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Captain said...
Oct. 22, 2010 at 10:51 pm:
Expertly written. I wish I could write a story with this style! If I could, I'd print this in the newspaper 
 
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Macx14 said...
Oct. 16, 2010 at 11:33 am:
Aww, this is adorable! Very well written, good job!
 
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