It shimmered in the oven: double the fruit, delicate lattice work across the top, pattern broken once by carefully cut leaves, light glaze over the whole thing. She smiled, satisfied.
Her usual pie was two store-bought crusts slapped around some ill-cut apples, a palm-full of brown sugar, smothered in mounds from the bucket of bargain vanilla ice-cream.
It was every man for himself, which is why she always ended up with the pie pan leavings. And why she loved it when husband and sons went hunting.
She settled back with a favorite china dish and silver spoon, relishing freedom.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2022)
March 14, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about free pie. What kind of pie and freedom? Who is involved with pies? How is it free? Go where the prompt leads!