I cannot wait to end humanity as we know it.

A bit extreme, but a fitting thought as I’m forced to elbow and wrestle through sweaty bodies obstructing the singular path to the train doors, shoving my way out into the beckoning freedom of the train platform.

I exit the station of streaming of empty faced workers and begin my intentionally peaceful walk to work. It isn’t usually peaceful, but it will be because I said so. I want to be happy today.

As if commanded by the universe of my thoughts, an ice cream van drives by, stops at the corner of the road ahead of me, and begins unleashing the iconic melody only ice cream vans can emit.

My vision is snapped back to the discoloured bricks of my family home. The stupid cracks in the pavement the council never bothered to fix. The local discounted cornershops that were only a few minutes away. The communal grass area with the climbing frames and spongy flooring.

The ice cream melody loops again.

I remember feeling the purest flavour of joy. The kind you only feel as a child with no responsibilities or obligations. Shooting upright and barrelling through anyone who dared stand in my way, armed with a massive grin and the pulsing thought of the taste of ice cream.

The ice cream driver shoots me a slightly pensive smile.

I mouth an apology to him. I’ve just completely zoned out at the van with a thousand-yard stare, but thankfully the growing line of customers draws the attention away from my reminiscing.

As I turn to slowly walk away, the nostalgia lingers, along with a silly, subtle childish grin. I’m glad I saw the ice cream truck.

I always did have a sweet tooth.