I retrieved my snow cone from Don and started off in the direction the man had pointed.
The cone was melting fast, and I tilted the paper cup clumsily, smearing the sticky liquid on my face and hands. Don, used to my minor mishaps by now, merely rolled his eyes as I fished out a Kleenex.
"Well, it's melting faster than it should," I said, scrubbing at my chin.
"I know." He squeezed my shoulder and continued eating his own cone, which seemed to be surviving just fine.