#2 "The Last Piece of Pie"

She would not give him the last piece of pie. She stood at the counter, spatula in hand and dessert plate at her elbow, hovering over the last piece of pumpkin pie. She had spent over an hour making it the day before. Had pulled the dog-eared index card with her grandmother's unmistakable handwriting out of the wooden box of family recipes. Had faithfully measured each ingredient. Had even taken the time to use a fresh pumpkin rather than just grabbing a can of pumpkin pie mix from the grocery store.

Everyone had said it had tasted perfect, "just like Grandma used to make!" She had fairly beamed with pride as she watched everyone dig in, the freshly made whipped cream dolloped on in abundant heaps. Even her mother-in-law, who never had a nice thing to say about anything, had shrugged with acquiescence at the superb flavor.

And now, she stood over the last piece. It was to be her breakfast. She had thought about it all night. A slice of pie, a warm cup of coffee, the morning paper and a crossword puzzle at the breakfast table in the sun room. A perfect start. Until he had come grumbling down the steps, hair standing on end, his bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor. He had poured a mug of coffee, not bothering to get one for her, shoved the paper under his arm, and glanced with bleary eyes at the pie and plate on the counter.

"Hey. Throw that on a plate for me, would ya?"

She stood there, ready to comply as she usually did, too eager to please others. She thought of her plan, how she had wanted to start her day. She thought of his selfish ways, listened to him slurping on his coffee. But what was she to do?

Sighing, she scooped the pie up with the spatula. Spinning toward the plate, she moved too fast and the slice of pie slid right off, landing with a splat on the floor. She and her husband stared downward, the pie at their feet. He shook his head at her in frustration, slapping the paper down on the counter as he did so.

"Well, so much for that!" He grabbed his mug and stomped out of the kitchen.

Smirking, she leaned down, scooped the pie up, and flipped it over onto the plate. A quick inspection. Poured herself a generous mug of coffee. Slipped the paper under her arm, grabbing the mug and plate.

She was still smirking as she dug into the first bite. Give him the last piece of pie, indeed.