Author's Note: Sorry I haven't updated in like two days. I've been busy with summer reading (It's insane.) and life in general (It's complicated), so I haven't really had time to type 700 words. Also, I forgot my password for a while, and I didn't feel like changing it again. Ha. Well, as always, I hope you like it! I also hope you review! It not only makes me feel great that someone is taking the time to tell me what they think of my work (good or bad), but it also helps me become a better writer. So if you want my writing to improve from simple sentence structure and more complex verb usage, please tell me that. ;)

XOXO,

SLWF

Sarah picked up the sweaty and tired Samantha. The little girl had run around the play ground for about an hour, and even though she had much more stamina than pretty much all of the children her age, she was still just three years old. Samantha snuggled her dirty face into the crook of Sarah's neck, something that in a previous time Sarah would not have been able to handle. But now, as she was aging, she found something endearing in the way her kids and grandchildren found it so easy and so comforting to position their heads in such a manner. She knew now, of course, why they did it, for she did the same thing with Chuck.

She thought that her granddaughter was asleep, so she had started walking back home. It startled her, then, when she heard a little voice say, "Grammy, you're going the wrong way."

Sarah was puzzled, "What do you mean, dear? This is the way home."

Samantha lifted her head, "I know, but Grampy Chuck always takes us for ice cream after the park. Can we go? Please?"

Sarah smiled at the child, and turned around. The girl was accustomed to silent answers from her grammy, as well as always getting her way. Sarah carried Samantha the few blocks to the ice cream shop, reminiscent of the old stores from even before Sarah's time, except with fancy technology. The store was big enough to hold a crowd, but small enough that no one wanted to eat in there. Two tiny tables were in the corner, but they never got used. Everyone ate their ice cream outside. Unlike the Orange Orange, no one was there to scoop ice cream from giant tubs. Also, unlike the do-it-yourself frozen yogurt shops, there weren't stations of ice cream along the walls, and one did not pay by the ounce. Instead, everything was available with the flick of a finger, figuratively speaking. The shop was run by robots, more or less. The customer would make their order via a touchscreen menu and almost instantly a small compartment on the counter where their order station was would disappear. A moment later, their order would show up, perfect and exact. The store had every flavor of ice cream and every topping imaginable, and without the bother of human error, the store looked magnificently clean. There was a nominal manager, but he was only there to turn on and off the machines and to make repairs to the computers if necessary.

The store was actually one of the only pieces of advanced technology that she liked. It was convenient and user-friendly. She had hoped, when the store first started up eleven years ago, that more of the stores would follow suit. Some did make the change, some did not. The ones that switched were the ones that got more customers, mostly comprised of busy people. The ones that did not switch, had loyal customers, ones that did not leave for every single new innovation in their technology. They also made more people happy, because they employed more than one person for each store. That was the downside to such convenience from the competitors' restaurants and gas stations; more and more people were unemployed.

But none of that worried Samantha. She waited patiently in line behind an old woman, much older than Sarah, who had trouble using the touchscreen menu. She was still on the first part of her order, and it was clear she was struggling. However, no one was offering the woman any assistance. Sarah wanted to; she really did, but she just thought about if someone other than her family offered her help for something so seemingly simple. Something a three-year-old could do. She would be angry and frustrated, so she just left the woman alone.

Although, Samantha had different thoughts on the matter. The old woman needed help, and she was going to help her. She walked right up to the lady, and offered her assistance.

"Thank you, young lady," the old woman said. "No one ever helps me at places like this. And I've never been here before, so I don't really know what's going on."

"That's why I'm here," Samantha said, in a way that reminded Sarah of Chuck. "So what do you want? A cone, a bowl, a bowl made out of a cone, a shaped bowl or cone, an iced bowl, a bowl made of ice, or a bowl made of candy? If I were you, I'd choose the bowl made of the cone. It's simple, but not too simple. Not to mention, it's delicious."

"You know, that would be wonderful," the woman said.

"Fantastic," Samantha said, just like a salesperson who handles customers like the old woman all day. "Do you want a chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, mint chocolate chip, blueberry, or peanut butter flavored bowl, ma'am?"

"Blueberry, thank you," the woman said. "And please, call me 'Fiona.' None of this 'ma'am' business."

"Alrighty, Fiona," Samantha said, "what size do you want? Extra small, which holds roughly 4 ounces of ice cream, small which is 6, medium which is 9, large which is 12, or extra large which is 15. There's also a mega size, holding about 20 ounces, but if you ask me, that is just too much ice cream."

"Small will do," Fiona replied, her countenance significantly cheered.

"Okay," the three-year-old waitress said, "only a few more things to choose from. What flavor ice cream? There are just too many options for me to run through in a short amount of time, but we have the famous trio: chocolate, strawberry, or vanilla. We have all three mixed together. My favorite is the rainbow kind, that does not taste like Skittles if you are worried about that. It is like sugar cookie dough ice cream, with the cookie dough dyed the colors of the rainbow. It tastes amazing. And is the special of the day, see? You'll save 5% on your order."

"I'd like to try that, then," Fiona said. "And no toppings, please."

"That just makes my job easier," Samantha joked, while Sarah just thought about how charismatic her granddaughter was. "Okay, to finish your order, all you have to do is place your right thumb on this scanner here, so that you can pay for your ice cream. Personally, I like this system a lot more than the one that used debit or credit cards. It's a lot more secure, if you ask me. Good, and after you scan your thumb, just insert the amount seen on the right-hand corner of the screen. That's your total. Sign your name here. No, no pen. Just use your finger, like finger-painting. Brilliant! You're done! Enjoy!"

As soon as those words were out of her mouth, Fiona's ice cream came up out of the counter.

"Wow, it's like magic!" the old woman exclaimed. "Thank you, dear!"

"No problem," Samantha said."I'm happy to help."

Fiona walked outside to enjoy her ice cream, and Sarah hugged her granddaughter, "Samantha, that was very nice of you."

"It was nothing, grammy," Samantha said. "It's just what everyone should do, you know?"

Sarah agreed, and she watched her grandchild order her own ice cream. Then Sarah ordered hers, and paid. The two made their way out of the shop, onto the now crowded street, and began their walk home.

As they were walking, Sarah couldn't help but think, Samantha is just like her grandfather, always helpful, always patient, always kind...and that's why I love him.