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Elizabeth Hearn Milner


The Ice Man Soft air, wine sweet with heady, floral scent, slippery seeds of watermelon season, sidewalks fry-an-egg sizzling hot, and then came the ice wagon. Mr. Case, on his high seat, coming down Kennedy Street over the hot, chewable-soft tar, wearing his deer skin apron. With huge ice tongs and leather carrier, he shoulders …