The rain pounded on the gray streets as I walked quickly to the ice cream shop. I get to the glass door with Joe’s Ice Cream shop painted clearly on it.

I walk in, letting the smells and sounds of the small ice cream shop overwhelm me. There’s a few people sampling ice cream, wolfing it down, and the one old man, Joe, in the back churning and making the ice cream.

I walk up to the shiny, glass display case with ice cream in it, pondering on what to order. Joe looks up at me and smiles, knowing he’s got me now with the delicious smells and tastes of his hand made ice cream. I ask for chocolate ice cream with chunks of Reese’s blended in with it.

He makes the ice cream with long years of practice and perfection, hands it to me, and I pay for the mouth watering combination of two fatty treats. I go to the wooden tables and sit down to eat my luscious ice cream.

I set the ice cream down and it runs briskly down the sides of the bowl. I start picking off the top , then letting the ice cream dissolve in my mouth, then biting hard on the slowly freezing Reese’s. All that’s left in the bottom is a soupy mixture of chocolate covered candy.

I throw the Styrofoam bowl out, and thank Joe enthusiastically. He smiles again and wishes me a good afternoon, and I walk out the door, with the tastes of his ice cream lingering in my mouth.