‘how much further?’ samfa asks. she has injured her leg playing dodgeball with her colleagues, so each step is a tiny dose of hell for the tiny woman.

‘it’s right there,’ i say.

‘we’ve been walking a while, to be fair,’ says faathumaafulhu who’s visiting from the resort.

‘to be fair,’ i mutter.

‘what was that?’ faathumaafulhu asks.

‘it’s right there i said,’ i say, pointing to a blue canopy.

‘frosty blue,’ says samfa.

‘i know you can read,’ i say.

inside, it’s bright, cool, and cosy. plus there’s a cute blue and wood theme going on.

we stand by the small ice cream counter. it’s got six flavours, one of them is kashikeyo, which samfa orders. my sister gets lotus biscoff and i a chocolate brownie.

‘i feel like lotus biscoff is a quite recent addition to the world of ice cream,’ says samfa, sitting down on a blue cushion.

‘it’s been around,’ i say.

‘huh, i feel like it’s only been a couple of years,’ says samfa, eyeing a white vase on the table with its kitschy plastic plant.

‘this place seems unreal,’ i say as the server places disposable cups with our ice cream on the table. ‘like the sort of place someone might imagine if they think of starting a little shop.’

‘or how an ice cream shop in maafannu might think ice cream places in henveiru are like,’ says samfa.

‘there IS a dreaminess for real,’ says faathumaafulhu. ‘but maybe it’s just me. how’s your ice cream?’

‘mine’s very creamy. could’ve used a LITTLE more flavour,’ says samfa. ‘want a taste?’

faathumaafulhu eats a bit on the end of samfa’s spoon then nods.

‘i know what you mean,’ she says.

‘wanna have a bite of mine?’ i ask. faathumaafulhu has some and makes a face.

‘it’s way too bitter.’

‘bitter?’ i say. ‘it’s good, man. it’s real good!’

we eat silently for a bit. i really don’t think my ice cream is THAT bitter AND it has chunks of brownies in it. it’s a good ice cream. maybe a teeny bit more sweetness won’t hurt. some more cream could be nice too. but i mean, it’s not bad at all. it’s good. pretty, pretty good.

‘what are you mumbling?’ asks samfa.

‘nothing,’ i say. ‘can you get the bill?’

samfa snorts and goes to the counter.

‘she’s a keeper,’ says faathumaafulhu.

i nod.