Cobblestone Confetti
Cobblestone Confetti Each crackling step of cobblestone led me to a rusted town gate. Crunch, crunch. My feet swooped leaves as I admired the wall that stood giants above my head. It occurred to me that the night was too quiet, and the colorful autumn foliage scattered along the tropical seascape seemed out of place. Confused by Mother Nature, I remembered last spring break. I had spent a few days in this exact spot. Making memories with confetti ice cream in a waffle bowl and the strum of local bands became one of my favorite family adventures. Today the tourists seemed quieter and less active among the medieval dungeons, pirate cruises, and haunted hayrides. I window shopped with my gaze set toward the sweet shop where confetti ice cream waited for me. “Haunted Hayrides, 7 PM. Discounted tickets here.” “Schoolhouse tours, closing soon.” “ Ding, ding, ding . Trolley trips, five-minute wait.”