It was, by all accounts, the hottest ice cream parlor in the country. And business was booming.

Bennie grabbed a scoop that looked like it had just been pulled from a dishwasher. He attacked the chocolate vat. The ice cream didn’t resist; it surrendered instantly, sliding off the scoop in a sad, viscous rope. He slapped it onto a cone that was already bending under its own humidity.

“It’s… hot,” Mila whispered, staring at the empty cone.