James screamed. It ripped against the lining of his throat and drained his lungs, but in his grief he did not care. He did not care when heads turned in the street, glaring at him. His whole world lay crushed at his feet. Their scorn was nothing against his loss. The wide-mouthed screech ended only when the tearful coughing choked it.

His mother tugged at his small hand, pulling him away from the ice cream cone splattered on the pavement.