He stood in front of the cafe enjoying the crisp winter morning. The air felt cool on his hot face.
As a young couple walked in, the glass doors swung open and he caught sight of his reflection. He couldn’t help giving a self-satisfied smile. I look good, thought he, glancing appreciatively at his golden mop, its bright yellow contrasting spectacularly with his tanned chocolate body. He puffed out his chest a trifle more, settled the pleats of his paper cup just so and put on his best ever look. He was, after all, the life and soul of the cafe.
He sniffed the air – it smelt good too – fresh and lemony with a dash of cinnamon. Life’s good, thought he. It was going to be a good day.
Not everyone, however, was having a good day. He glanced back at the young couple as they spoke in angry whispers barely managing to keep their voices down; not that there was anyone else in the tiny restaurant, apart from the plump affable Mrs Brown who had discreetly retreated to the back of the bakery.
Mrs Brown glanced at the couple, then looked back at him. And then before he knew it, he was at the table and Mrs Brown was saying, “This is for both of you, with best compliments from Lemon Pie Cafe.”
The couple looked from him to Mrs Brown their frowns slowly melting.
‘You remember,’ whispered the girl, ‘the time you’d stuck a candle in one of these for my birthday,’
‘and,’ he added softly, ‘we’d argued over who should get the larger piece’,
‘and then,’ she went on, her eyes tearing up, ‘I’d almost eaten up the ring you’d put in there.’
‘And I was grateful you found it in time because it had cost my whole damn salary,’ he completed with a laugh in his voice his hand closing on hers.
At this point Mrs Brown thought it best to return to her station at the back of the bakery while he just gave a proprietary smile. That’s another sweet ending to a love-story.
This, this is what makes the life of a pie worthwhile, thought he.
Written for the prompt ‘Life of Pie’ for the second edition of the fortnight-long Bar-a-thon.