My mother sighed in the passenger seat beside me. "I haven't heard someone crunch ice since your father died."
My eyes widened, and I stopped crunching the ice in my mouth. I slowly put the Wendy's cup in the holder at the dashboard. I bit my lower lip searching for something to say. "Oh," was all I found.
"He used to say, 'Hurry up and drink your coke so I can have your ice'." There was laughter in her voice. I laughed along with her.
If there was ice left in his drink, Dad would eat it. I do it, too. What about you? Do you crunch the ice left in the glass?