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It was a hot summer day and I could see the heat rising up off the pavement. As humidity permeated me and sank down to my nerves, I looked over at the quiet unassuming Billy Weizstein.
He smiled at me with a crooked grin and looked up from under thick glasses. I giggled at him and continued licking a kiddie cone of vanilla. My tongue felt the cool, but everything was melting quicker than I anticipated.
Billy must have noticed the frustration on my face when he said in a tiny voice, “You can have mine if you want.”
“Nah,” I said between determined attempts at finishing the ice-cream. “I’m okay.”
I noticed him blush, but at that age I wasn’t quite sure what it meant. The brilliant emerald grass and clear sky both told him that I should do something I wouldn’t have ever thought of on my own.
I reached over, with young dirty fingers, sticky with sweat and melted ice-cream, and grasped his own little hand.
“You know Erica,” he looked at me with wonder in his eyes, “you really are my best friend.”
I nodded my head. “Yup. You too.”
As he held onto my hand, I didn’t know that there was a tiny infinitesimal distance between us caused by repelling charges.
Maybe, the split second before Billy left the earth with a bang, he got to feel something for real. Maybe his nerves got the most beautiful sensation of all time.
Billy Weizstein lived a quiet life and he left the world in a quantum flurry. Once and while, I can taste one of the snowflakes he created on my tongue like the ice-cream I licked while I had his hand in mine.

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