"And live from NBC, we have a missing person report." The newscaster looked straight at the camera, sympathy shone in her eyes. "Kelly Yang, age 28, female, around 148 pounds, 5 foot 5 inches, with black hair and brown eyes. She was last seen in Fairview park, by her boyfriend -"
Mark tore his gaze from the small TV and focused on his meal. The sad-looking burnt steak and over-boiled broccoli stared back at him. The waiter had insisted that the steak was not burnt, but in fact was "caramelized", as he had put it. There was no use arguing back, and Mark was not in the mood. Dreariness hung limp in the air, dulling the news in the background. He had had enough of the unappetizing lunch and boring place, so he fished out one dollar bills from his beaten-up leather wallet, placed them on the table in a neat stack, and left the drab diner without looking back.
He walked briskly down the sidewalk, not even pausing to wipe the sweat beading from his forehead. It was an exceedingly hot day, the sun's heat beating down on his head. The road was entirely empty, which Mark thought odd, since Braeswood was known to be a very busy street. His attention snagged on a nearby flyer posted on a traffic light pole, but even that did not stop his fast stride. Nevertheless, he gleaned a few phrases that summarized the purpose of the flyer: missing person....Patrick Hardy....in his neighborhood. A vibration in his pocket scattered his thoughts, and he took out his phone to answer it.
"Hey mom."
"Where are you?" The stress in her voice was unnerving.
"I just left-"
"Just come home as fast as you can, please?" She interrupted.
Mark could hear their TV blaring in the background, the unmistakable voice of the newscaster from the diner blasted in his ear. He winced. Moving the phone farther away from his ear, he asked, "Is this about the missing persons?"
"Oh Mark," she wailed, "Three people disappearing in one day? And it's not even the end of the day yet! Promise me you'll come home as soon as you can."
"Hold on, three people? Who's the third?"
"Bobby McCarthy, remember him? He used to live right across from us when you were young. He was such a sweet boy too." Mark listened to her drone on about the supposed childhood friend whom he was unable to recall. His eyes wandered to a passing building and finally slowed down. A cartoonish pink ice cream cone and the words "Ice Cream" were stamped on a dusty green awning, and the windows were tinted so that you wouldn't be able to see the inside of the ice cream shop. Just like the street, the parking lot was vacant and you could practically see a tumbleweed go by. The whole thing seemed abandoned, except for the neon red OPEN sign hung right next to the door. By now, Mark's simple cotton t-shirt was soaked through, and he desperately needed a way to cool down. Ice cream seemed like a very good idea to him. Mark returned to the ongoing call where his mother was still talking about the boy. "Mom, I got to go, bye." And without waiting for her response, he ended the call.
The door closed behind him with a sharp click. The cool air eased away his heat and he sighed with relief, until the smell hit him. He wrinkled his nose. It almost smelled like.... no, he dismissed the thought. It was just his imagination. Instead, Mark focused on his surroundings as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. A sole table and two chairs occupied the space near the windows, as if the shop owner did not expect customers. A long metal counter snaked across the room, it's tail curving inward. There was no one behind it.
"Hello? Anyone there?"
No one answered. Mark reached for the door handle to leave, but thought better of it. Maybe they were using the restroom. He could wait. An icebox was embedded in the counter, containing round tubs of ice cream. As he stepped closer, Mark found it odd that there were only two tubs. He bent down to see, close enough that his nose was seconds away from touching the thin plexiglass that acted as a shield. The first tub had chunks of white chocolate swimming in red swirls of strawberry-or was it cherry? The second tub had a beautiful marbling of black and light pink. It was truly a delicious sight.
