Eleven

El grins at Ellie, their names so similar but, she's certain, very different. When Ellie takes a bite of her ice cream, El tries to say any sort of word that might stop her, but nothing comes until it's too late. It has to be so cold.

Ellie's mouth is a mess of chocolate sauce and rapidly melting ice cream, a cherry step peeking from her mouth, and El bursts into giggles.

"The stem," she finally manages. "Take the cherry stem out of your mouth." She licks her ice cream again, catching some of the whipped cream on it. It's the same exact cone she'd had the day she'd arrived — the last time she'd seen Max.