Glow place with the strung bulbs and the hexagonal tiles. All chic and fun. Toddlers sprint to too tall chairs and stumble into them. I’m an ice cream lover with a lactose problem; that’s a tragic romance right there.
But this place has a spot for me, this place with its bright lights, its effervescent warmth. A dubious but intriguing proposition of coconut milk wizardry: chocolate avocado.
Creamy brown with soft ridges, dark ravines. All the beautiful textures of a well-made ice cream. I can, in fact, taste the avocado, but it’s good, a subtle, earthy note that slowly emerges on the coattails of the rich but restrained chocolate. Not overly sweet, not dismayingly bitter.
I said it was funny how we stop asking each other the simple questions once we really get to know each other. So we sat and ate ice cream and talked about our passions.
Outside, the night air was cold, but the stars above were crystalline. Beauty in the universe coming our way.