Sitting on the black metal and wooden bench with such a stunning stain on the wood, I pull out my white and pink journal. I sit on this bench every day after my long shift at the ice cream shop. I get free ice cream if I work overtime, of course, I take it. I only took a small scoop today, vanilla is my go-to flavor but I wasn't too hungry from my break. I remember as a little girl, I worked at the shop with my papa, he moved after my Nana passed. I miss papa, the shop is quiet without him. I knew he was there when he turned on the old tunes from when he was a little boy, he'd dance as he swept the pink and white checkered floor. My papa and I used to throw leftover ice cream at each other, we used to go home super sticky. Ma always was laughing at how foolish we were at work. I always write in my journal about going to visit my papa, I've saved quite a bit of money but not enough to stay for as long as I would like to. I write in my journal how the day goes at work as the sun starts setting I pack my journal back into my brown bag. My bag hangs off to the side of my body, usually never too heavy to hurt my shoulders. I stand up and look behind me to see if I left anything behind, I go to turn around and bump into someone "oh my God I'm so sorry I didn't see you there" I say panicking, I see who it is and my face goes pale and I feel my heart drop in my chest.
