Meloncholy: (n.)


The deep, bittersweet sorrow one feels upon discovering the best pieces of the fruit salad have been picked over.


Years ago, a friend of mine and I stopped in to a little gourmet water ice shop – the kind that offer flavors you’d never consider capturing in an ice medium.

“Cantaloupe!” he chirped. “Who makes cantaloupe water ice!?” A moment of silent consideration passed.”I think I’m gonna go with the cantaloupe,” he said.

I ordered lemon.

Five minutes later, as we sat eating in the grass, my friend drearily jabbed his spoon into his water ice and admitted…

“I fucking hate cantaloupe.”

Don’t we all. Don’t we all.

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