Leo stared at the screen. Then at the sky, which had started spitting sleet. Then at his own pathetic reflection in the rearview mirror—forehead lump, runny nose from the cold, a smear of mud across his cheek.
He’d left his jacket at home.
“You okay there, champ?” called a kid from a passing pickup truck. gottaluvapril
Then he put the car in reverse, drove home, made mac and cheese, and ate the cantaloupe he’d nearly died for.
He laughed. It hurt his face. He laughed harder. The sleet turned to actual snow—fat, wet flakes that melted on his windshield and made the world look like a shaken snow globe. April, everyone. Leo stared at the screen
His phone buzzed. A text from his sister: “First allergies of the season! My eyes feel like they’re full of sand. gottaluvapril”
Now, at 4:47 PM, the sky had turned the color of a week-old bruise. The wind had teeth. And Leo was standing in the parking lot of a grocery store, shivering, holding a single bag of frozen peas—not for dinner, but for the egg-sized lump forming on his forehead. He’d left his jacket at home
The story: a rogue shopping cart, a patch of black ice that had no business existing in April, and a physics-defying face-plant into a concrete wheel stop. He’d been trying to rescue a lady’s runaway cantaloupe. The cantaloupe, naturally, was fine.