“Two scoops of Misfortune Cookie Dough, please,” she ordered. “Because you’re Asian?” the cashier asked. “Excuse me?” Izzy drilled. “You don’t have to stick with that, y’know,” the cashier said. “Mixing flavors is quite trendy this Halloween.” Izzy scoffed. “Hey, man,” I started. “Let’s leave the edginess on the menu, yeah?” The cashier squinted. “I suppose you’ll want the Irish Gold?” he asked. I rolled my eyes. “That one’s just lazy,” Izzy spat. “And I hate pistachio,” I added. “It’s actually potato flavor,” the cashier said. Izzy and I stared. The cashier glanced between us. “Fine, bad joke. The whole menu is a bad joke. It doesn’t matter what you call it, who the hell wants ice cream on Halloween?” “We do,” Izzy answered. “Technically, she does,” I said, tilting my head in her direction. “Then don’t get anything,” she suggested. “If I’m buying ice cream, I’m eating ice cream.” “You lose a bet?” the cashier asked. “No,” I replied. “Then what’s the occasion?” “My dog died,” Izzy said. The cashier’s eyes popped open. “Oh…” he uttered. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did, um… boy or girl?” “They were nonbinary,” Izzy replied. “Ariel was only 2 months old. They ran into the street and got hit by a car.” The cashier leaned on the counter with his head hung low. “Nonbinary, huh?” the cashier asked. “That supposed to be funny?” He brought his head up, scowling at Izzy. “What’s funny about a puppy being run over by your best friend?” she retorted. “Nothing at all,” he said. The cashier eyed me. “You ran over a… ‘transgender’ puppy?” the cashier asked. I glanced at Izzy with no desire to continue this charade. “She tried to force the nonbinary label on Ariel,” I added. “It fit her- their… name. I never intended to hurt them. They were just so small…” Grease practically flew off of my tongue. The cashier stared for a moment before shaking his head. “Two scoops for the Asian liar and one potato for the spineless Irish.” My eyes widened. “That’ll be $7.” “I’m not lying,” Izzy declared, enunciating each syllable. My lungs filled with acid. “Look, let’s just get our ice cream and-” “And we’re not paying $7 for three scoops of ice cream,” she added. “It’s $1.50 a scoop.” “Your friend’s the one paying, right?” the cashier asked her. “Surely an SJW wouldn’t mind supporting a local business with someone else’s money?” “Alright, you know what-” “Jeffrey!” a voice shouted from the back. The cashier’s eyes bored into mine before he turned to answer the call. We stared as he pushed past the door. “What the hell is wrong with you, Isabelle?” I asked. “Me?” she asked. “He practically called me Asiaface.” “Well, you do have an Asian face,” I joked. Izzy scowled at me. I sighed. “Fine, I know… But why did the dog have to be transgender? And why did I run it over?” “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “That guy sucks. I was just having a little fun.” “At The Little Mermaid’s expense?” I asked. “Oh, now you care about a fictional dog? Why weren’t you this upset when we watched John Wick?” “Come on, Keanu may be a nice guy, but his acting-” “Do not finish that sentence if you want to taste your ice cream,” she demanded. “I’m just saying, this guy’s obviously upset about something. You don’t have to pile on him just because their menu is tacky.” “That’s not what’s bothering me…” she sighed. I dropped my head, glancing at Izzy before staring at the counter. “You’re still upset about the dog, aren’t you?” I whispered. Izzy’s face tightened. She remained silent. The door behind the counter flew open, smacking the wall as Jeffrey returned. “$5,” he said. “And I’ll give you two scoops each. What would you like?” I turned to Izzy. She smiled at the cashier. “So generous of you,” she sang. “Cookie Dough and Vanilla.” “Great,” he said, turning to face me. His eyes drilled into mine, his fury nearly boiling over his irises. “Hello?” he said. “Huh?” “Money,” he said. “You give me money, I give you ice cream. Marx’s worst nightmare.” “I’m not sure that’s what Comm-” “Here,” I interrupted, grabbing cash from my pocket. “$7. A tip for the trouble.” “Oh, whoopee,” he mocked, taking the cash. “Now I can retire in luxury.” “You’re an ass,” Izzy said. “And you’re dog is a ghost,” he said. Izzy gasped. “How dare you!” she feigned. “Enough, already,” I said. “This is getting annoying.” Jeffrey chuckled as Izzy frowned. “Since you were generous enough to tip me…” the cashier grabbed two cups. “I have a bit of a treat for you.” “A treat?” I asked. “Better not be a Scooby Snack,” Izzy mumbled. Jeffrey scooped ice cream into a cup. “No dog treats here,” he said. “This treat… it’s magic.” He winked at Izzy, handing her a cup of ice cream. She scoffed. Magic? I wondered. “What do you mean?” Jeffrey scooped ice cream into the second cup. “It’s not something I can explain with words,” he said. “It’s something to experience for yourself.” I grabbed the cup from his hand before he turned around. “Can we get spoons, please?” Izzy asked. Jeffrey laughed. He spun around, holding out a plastic spoon in each hand. “Why, that is your treat,” he mocked. I raised an eyebrow as Izzy peered at him. “Thanks,” I said, reaching for a spoon. “What’s the magic?” “Pain and suffering,” he stated as I took the spoon. I froze and he withdrew his hands. “You’re a creep,” Izzy said. “What do you mean?” I asked him. “Enjoy your ice cream,” he said with a smile. “Whatever, weirdo,” Izzy mumbled as she beelined for the exit. I stared for a moment before turning to follow her. The waxing moon hung above like a hologram in the sky. We walked through dusk toward the park on the corner, taking bites of ice cream along the way. I focused on tasting the vanilla to forget the cashier’s bizarre comment. By the time we reached a bench, we only had one scoop each. We watched the sunset in silence. As indigo crept over the reds and oranges, I turned to see Izzy scoop her last bite of ice cream. “Any good?” I asked. She hummed. “Not bad,” she replied. “Almost worth the headache.” I turned back to the sunset and finished my last bite. A question formed in my mind. As I decided to utter it, I dissolved. I melted, like a scoop of Guilty Vanilla on an asphalt road in the middle of the desert. Colors swirled, flashed, and morphed within my… within myself. Through me, through my mind. Or… through my body… Or… my… I… I was…

I was alone. I was alone and she was gone. She was gone. I missed her. She had been gone and I still missed her. I shouldn’t have let her go on her own. She wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready. If only I told her what I knew, what I sensed that day. Maybe I could have stopped him. All I had to do was apologize. I didn’t have to play along. I didn’t have to… I didn’t… Izzy laid on the street, her neck snapped and body twisted. A pool of crimson spread around her. I wasn’t there, but she was. I could feel it, her burning bones, her aching muscles. I could only watch, knowing that I’d seen this before. I’d allowed it many times before. Each time, the same. Every life, in pain. I couldn’t do it again. Not again. Please, not again. Please… Please!