Me & James F. 3

October 20th, 2013, 12pm

It was 14.4°C. The breeze was light.

Three. (Ice Cream) James F. is upstairs with a gray eyed girl. He knows a lot of people. And a lot of girls. He says, “D.E. I know a lot of people,” and leaves me outside in the truck. I look up at the windows of the apartment building but all I see are curtains. I don’t even know which window is hers. But know he’s upstairs with that girl with the gray eyes and I’m stuck down here eating mint ice cream in a rusted out ice cream truck, which is our getaway vehicle because who’d suspect? And we have real ice cream and a till so we can put the money in inconspicuous like.

James F. comes back after two hours. He knows I’m angry. He says, “Sadness traps people.” I hate when he talks like that. I can’t understand what he means. “Gray eyes are overrated,” I say. He shakes his head.

Tomorrow there’s another girl and more ice cream sliding down my throat. Cold against the burning.

Chris, David Wade and Jack said thanks.

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Danielle Ellen

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