Artwork © Eric N. Peterson

 

Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked Fro Yo

A half-baked Fro Yo summons. Calling me enticingly from the turning corners of my consciousness as I finish an early evening run, after orbiting the East River Greenway. My aching feet discover themselves here: at Ben and Jerry’s. I stand deliberating, concluding that I have beat my 10k time by nearly half a minute. A sweet treat to reward my running efforts is surely deserved.

Quite easily, I stumble across a Ben & Jerry’s store on 44th Street.

As I stand in line on a crisp Sunday morning, perspiring profusely, bearing a puffy, crimson face, I spot her.

Her.

She works here. The woman from one of my running routes: The Central Park Full Loop.

We’d always slowed a little on sighting the other, tucking stray hairs into sweatbands, adjusting Lycra folds, painting an: ‘I’m not exhausted’ smile upon our faces, endeavouring to impress. All for a fraction of a second, perhaps a millisecond, but it is always worth it, to briefly hold her golden gaze.

I’d be lost in a gilded daydream for the rest of the run.

And she is here. Now.

The mystery woman, donning emerald headphones from Central Park. Elegant, even mid-run, with long eyelashes, normally swiped with a purple tint. I never miss the minutiae of her.

“Hey. It’s you. The runner from Central Park!” I blurt as she locks my regard, unable to regain my normal composure.

“It’s you. The runner with the bubblegum pink Apple Watch. I love the colour,” she coyly offers. “What will it be?” she questions.

“Oh, it’s my first time. What’s good?”

Without speaking, but holding a secret smile, just for me, on damson lips, you take a silver scoop in hand and dexterously craft a health-conscious dessert. Smirking, without knowing why, lost in your own reverie, you add sprinkled cashews and plump cherries with a kiss of whipped cream to crown your icy creation.

“Thanks so much,” I offer, brushing my fingers against yours as you pass it across the counter, your touch a little chill from the frozen tub.

“On the house, but in exchange for a run next Tuesday,” she quizzes teasingly, moving the tub back and forth between you as a tennis rally.

“You’re funny!” I guffaw. “Jesus! So sorry. I’m a little light-headed from the run,” I half-pant.

So embarrassing. I’m cringing at myself right now.

~~~

Less than twenty-four hours later, after devouring the thirst-quenching Half-baked Fro Yo, I head out for another run. Subconsciously, my feet take me to Central Park.

Pushing myself to beat my last 10k time, I fall into myself as my Apple Watch beeps, alerting that I’ve finished, and pleasingly, smashing my previous time.

Raising my aching limbs from a crouched position, taking deep breaths, I gaze around.

On a tree-shrouded bench, she sits. She’s holding out two tubs of Fro Yo. A magic is weaved within the offering.

I think I’m in love, you dare to consider, stepping towards her, a beaming smile caressing your skin.

 

Emma Wells is a mother and English teacher. She has poetry published with various literary journals and magazines. She enjoys writing flash fiction and short stories also.

Emma won Wingless Dreamer’s Bird Poetry Contest of 2022 and her short story entitled “Virginia Creeper” was selected as a winning title by WriteFluence Singles Contest in 2021.

Recently, she won Dipity Literary Magazine’s 2024 Best of the Net Nominations for Fiction with her short story entitled “The Voice of a Wildling.”

Her first novel is entitled Shelley’s Sisterhood and was published in 2024.

Eric N. Peterson is from Atlanta, Ga. He’s been drawing cartoons all his life. He leans towards the absurd, imaginative, and the surreal, as that’s where all the flavor is.