Kozue was cutting across the park, on her way to the topsicle stand—she had been out with friends at a movie, and now, on her way home, the heat and the sight of people passing by with the sweet, fruity, frozen treats had triggered an awful craving. She knew where the stand usually was on warm days; somewhere near the duck pond. So she was cutting across the lawn, keeping an eye out for the bright-colored umbrella and the cart.
She'd been wearing a sweater in the movie theater—they always over-airconditioned—but now she was warm enough that she'd tied it around her waist. It looked a bit odd wrapped around a skirt, but it was comfortable, and wearing it or carrying it would have been too annoying to bother with. Especially since she didn't think she'd run into anyone. (Kozue always thought that. It was often awfully wrong.)
She came down the hill towards the pond, still looking around, stomach rumbling, as she pondered what flavor to get (grape was winning out over melon but only slightly), when she caught sight of all the ducks on the pond making a fuss. They were swimming, high speed, for one spot, and quacking. She stopped, and then laughed when she saw a small piece of bread go flying out of a beak, to land in the water with a small, quiet splash, as one duck tried to tear it out of another's mouth and only ended up losing it for the both of them. They each rushed it, along with three or four pondmates, and the squabble started anew. It was a wonderful scene—how picturesque.
She pulled her sunglasses (the huge huge huge ones she'd bought with Oubai) off of her face and nested them in her hair, so she could watch better.