B is for Banana Splits

I'm using the April A to Z Blog Challenge as an opportunity to come up with prompts for flash fiction.

Growing up the best thing that Cassidy shared with her father was banana splits. At least once a month, even the cold months, they would find their way to the local Dip n' Do to share a banana split and talk. Cassidy's conversational skills had advanced from purple ponies to rock bands to philosophy. Her father always peppered the conversation with anecdotes about his students but seemed happy enough to indulge his chatty, excitable daughter. She found that sitting here now, looking across at the empty booth seat, was harder than the funeral.

"Why didn't I let you talk, Papa?" she whispered. There was so much she didn't know, so much she wanted to ask now. She looked down at the ice cream, the little boat set on the table the way it had always been, the chocolate on her side and the vanilla on his, strawberry between the two. She had only managed one bite and the flavors were melting together into a cold creamy soup. Looking at it she realized she didn't know if he had even liked vanilla.