The morning sun, filtered through the shattered storefront, cast long, distorted shadows across the “Rainbow Swirl” ice cream shop. Glass shards, like fallen stars, glittered on the floor. “I thought maybe the protesters would buy some, but maybe it’s a good thing we closed for three days,” the manager muttered, raking the glittering debris.
“Maybe the Marines would have bought a lot, ha ha,” Big Mama chirped, her voice a warm counterpoint to the manager’s resigned tone. She’d been plating ice cream with a smile for thirty years, and even a smashed window couldn’t dim her spirit. The fashionable, cute shop, a beacon of colorful scoops, was now a casualty not of the peaceful protests, but of the opportunistic rioters who had capitalized on the chaos.
Just then, Sally, a high school student and part-time employee, zipped up on her electric scooter. Her eyes widened at the sight. “Is the store okay? Wow, that was a big hit. What are you going to do about business, manager?”
“We’re going to clean up today and open tomorrow,” he replied, sweeping another pile of glass. “We’re also throwing away all the ice cream in stock.”
“Throw it away? Including the products stored in the fridge?” Sally gasped, a hint of dismay in her voice.
“Glass was scattered all over the place,” Big Mama explained, “so as a rule, we’re throwing it all away.”
The manager, seeing Sally’s crestfallen face, added, “You can eat whatever you like. It’s unbearably hot today.”
“Thanks!” Sally’s spirits instantly lifted. She skillfully scooped three extra-large servings, handing two to the manager and Big Mama.
“Okay, let’s take a break,” the manager said, and the three settled down to eat their ice cream.
“I came to this city from Puerto Rico thirty years ago, relying on my brother,” Big Mama mused, her eyes distant. “When I saw the ice cream at this store, I was surprised. It was so colorful—red, yellow, blue. I learned that ice cream doesn’t just have to be white.”
“We provide ice cream that is exciting to look at,” the manager added, a rare smile playing on his lips.
“And it’s delicious to eat,” Sally chimed in, a dollop of strawberry perched on her nose. “It’s not just the appearance. I love the ice cream at this store because it’s delicious, colorful, and cute.”
Their laughter filled the broken space.
Before they knew it, two young boys stood tentatively in front of the store, their eyes wide with curiosity.
“What’s wrong, guys?” the manager asked, a playful note in his voice. “Don’t you have school?”
“School starts again tomorrow,” one boy replied. “By the way, I heard a rumor that if you come here, you can eat ice cream for free today only.”
The three looked at each other. Big Mama winked. “Just for today,” she said.
The city’s curfew, imposed a week ago after instances of looting and vandalism during ICE raid protests, was lifted on Tuesday. Mayor Karen Bass stated that the curfew, combined with other crime prevention efforts, had been successful in protecting businesses and residential areas from “bad actors” who she emphasized do not represent the immigrant community. Bass also noted her readiness to reinstate the curfew if necessary, prioritizing the safety and stability of downtown neighborhoods amidst what she described as “chaos coming from Washington.”
All names of people and organizations appearing in this story are pseudonyms
Curfew lifted in downtown Los Angeles after decline in arrests
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