“What’s with that concrete trough?”
“They used to fill it during the winter and use it as an ice rink.”
“Doesn’t it melt?”
“No it doesn’t melt, Arizona boy. Come December, this place hardly ever breaks twenty degrees, let alone thirty-two.”
“Damn. How did you deal?”
“Bundle up. You get used to it. Ice on the sidewalks is tricky, but you learn.”
“God. I’ll take shorts and flipflops over long-johns any day.”
“Summers in Arizona aren’t exactly a picnic.”
“A/C baby. It’s how we do.”
“My dad taught me to ice-skate here. I still hate this place. Let’s go.”
