The low hum of a steel giant rumbled along an asphalt trail. It moves with others of its kind in packs. Only splitting from the herd to reach a goal.
Saluim was sitting in the middle of the back seat, stuck between the jolly antics of his brothers and willingly trying to become a barrier, stopping any brotherly fights from starting.
This was a pretty normal occurrence for him. Either Jett or himself had to place themselves in-between Aston and Mason, the two youngest and more volatile boys.
"No?! I'm on first!"
Aston's voice boiled with frustration.
The two were arguing right now, and it was over something small. Something trivial. They were arguing over who would be playing the home-console first.
"You were on first yesterday, how is that fair?"
Equally as frustrated, and just as temperamental, Mason's reasoning blossomed. Aston was first to play almost every day. Not by Mason's choice either.
Mason usually caught the bus home with his friends, which usually took well over an hour. While Aston would get an express ride home by their dad. Winning him the race before it had even started.
Clearly Mason should be getting on first. But Te-Ata wasn't one to dwell on such things. She'd be stuck trying to reason logic into the argument. So, instead of joining the argument, she would flip a coin.
"How about this," Saluim spoke up over their yelling, "heads, Aston plays first. Tails, Mason plays first. Simple"
Heh. I'm ready to be a dad.
He held a smug look up over them. His parents' wisdom really did touch all ends of the world. He was almost surprised they hadn't been given the title of wise sages. And their sharing of it was paying off.
"Fine!"
The youngest two agreed. And so, they flipped a digital coin. It was heads.
"That's not fair!"
Mason began tearing up. He was being overlooked, his reason and logic ignored. He felt abandoned by his brothers for a moment.
"Sorry, but that's about as fair as it can be."
Technically it wasn't. But not everyone needs to know the specifics about the pseudo-randomness offered by a digital coin flipping app. No one needs to know about RNG bias. No. That'd ruin the illusion.
Awkwardly leaving Mason's attention, who was now in a sobbing, teary mess. He peers through the middle gap of the driver and passenger seat. Ahead, he saw the ice cream shop. It had a few people at it, but most had already been served their food.
***
The five of them exited the metal beast. The different flavours sprung up out of a locked box of memories. Cravings of chocolate, vanilla, mint, coffee, peanut, and so on.
The small hole-in-the-wall shop was serving various sizes of bowls filled with ice-cream. It was the perfect counter to fight the blistering heat brought by the sun.
Poking their heads into the shop, eyeing down the different combinations on display. Aston pressed his nose against the curved glass. Mason got close as well, but only going so far as to put his hand against the metal top that hung out past the glass. Giving him a shock as he realised how cold it was.
The remaining three remained a fair distance away. More focused on the labels of these amalgamations in hopes of getting an idea of what they were going to be indulging in.
Behind the funny group of personalities was a small television, it showed horse racing with many maroon and gold colours mixed to create patriotic patterns. A bit to the side, a water fountain that was showing signs of age, likely left by the last owners and yet to be replaced with something more enticing.
The man that was serving—oddly enough—sat in a wheelchair, his attitude was that of someone angry of the world. Both characteristics would catch the attention of anyone entering. No one was brave enough to ask the questions that everyone wanted to ask though.
He muttered inaudible sermons to himself grumpily at the sight of Aston leaving smudges on the glass. His hands were covered by a blue glove, hiding his skin, and protecting the ice cream.
Despite his painfully irritating self-loathing, his hands were swift, and generous. They cut through the ice cream without any hesitation or restriction. It was mesmerizing. Kind of like watching pencil shavings grow longer and longer, some sections looking like they were going too thin and ready to snap. And yet, they held true to their shapes.
One by one, they were handed bowls of creamy deliciousness. Round mountains of milky snow stuck together like glue. Slowly melting into oozy pools to drown themselves in.
Mason got his serving first, and he was given an even extra generous portion, as if to pay off for the tears he had shed.
Then came Jett, who had been quietly reserved by his phone for the duration of the time. His portion was moderate, but still enough to feel like the favourite child.
Then came Aston and Saluim. Both of which got a bit less than everyone else.
Aston's in particular had a noticeable difference in size. But he was too occupied eating to notice.
Saluim got something extra with his though. As grabbed it, the wheelchair bound server was looking at him. And for a second, the mumbles under his breath could be heard.
"The last time you were here, you were crying."
Have I been here before?
And then.
Pain.
Stars came into vision.
And the world spun.
And the world hurt.