Come Before It Melts

The summer menu runs until today. It is still hot outside and the sweat on her back has not dried, but the chalkboard has to be turned over to autumn. She worked at this cafe the summer she was twenty-five too. On her last shift, someone who only ever came in for shaved ice season handed her a watermelon juice and told her to come to the stop across the road before it all melted. She finished closing up an hour and a half later, decided she was too late, and poured the cup into the sink. The whole time she poured, her palm stung with cold.