The tale of the icicle

Take teller: Simran Ramsay

The excruciating humid temperatures were testing her patience. A lengthy list of taxing errands was folded in her clammy palms with more than half still mockingly unchecked.


beads of sweat had started to accumulate at the back of her neck and on her upper lip, increasing her discomfort twofold.


The phone in her back pocket vibrated distracting her from her internal protest about work that wouldn’t have felt this overwhelming if she was more organised but she grumbled nonetheless.


“Hello,” her voice sounded brasher than she’d thought it would.

“Anu, did you deposit the check?”

“no, I’m still standing in line. I’m tired papa” 

“just get this done please, I bought ice cream for you.” 


It was surprising how obvious his bribe was but she was also surprised at how well it was working. The prospect of her favourite fruit popsicle enticed her, She was now ticking for cold comfort.


The line shortened and so did her patience, when she finally reached the counter, she made sure all her paperwork was stamped and signed perfectly. she stuffed it into her purse, and with quickened steps made her way to her father’s office where her ice cream awaited her.


multicoloured, sweet solace. Each bite tickled her sensitive teeth and pleased her parched mouth.

Her mood was immediately uplifted, the cool popsicle melted away her built up irritability.

She walked into her father’s cabin with a satiated smile and chirped.

” I’m done with all the work.” 

“Thank you so much, beta. This work was very pressing.” 


“No problem at all”, Said Anu her heart was full, and her stomach pleased.

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