The Pie

Ethan focuses on the pie in her hands.

The smell. Ethan knows that smell. Apple, but not alone.

Memories whirl. A field, a ball, a local kid whose name is lost to time. Then the aroma. Running. A house, not this house, but one much like it. And close. A young woman, tall, blonde, smiling. An invitation. Cinnamon!

Apple cinnamon pie!

The memory dredges up more.

This woman lives nearby, next door perhaps or maybe across the road. She was also, or is rather, a mother to one of the local children, a playmate in days gone. But more than that... Ethan's seen her here before he's sure. Was she, is she, a family friend?

Her name forms on his lips, realization taking form.