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When Sam came knocking, I was making a pie. It was an apple pie. I had wanted to make a cherry pie even though my favorite was pumpkin. I wanted to make cherry pie because I could never get the cherries to be tart and sweet enough at the same time. I decided to make apple pie, because it was Mali's favorite. I like apple pie just fine; I think the cinnamon and sugar make the whole vibe warm and cozy. Flour was everywhere in my kitchen after a little spill. The owl clock on the wall above the stove had been staring at the recipe for mint cookies that was splayed open on the counter. Wait, why had that been there? I was making apple pie for goodness sake, but it's fine. A small dark figure peeked through the doorway. My house had just started smelling of cinnamon and apples when I heard a tapping at the windows, it had started raining. I like the rain, it refreshes me. Sometimes I just need to wash away everything, the smoke, the dust, the past. The rain does a good job of that. The rain also smells nice, I like it the best when it smells of ice cream. I live in the woods, it's a long way down to the market, but I didn't want to live there anymore. I moved out here and built my own house. ~~~ (Still Tess) "Hear that Nutmeg? It's raining again." "Great, don't care, you promised me pie." My cat Nutmeg walks in and jumps up onto the counter. "Patience, Meg. It'll be ready soon." "I'm hungryyyyy!" Nutmeg's voice is low and smooth, though having the same quality of a young woman's voice. She's a light orange and fluffy despite the name. She started talking to me last year, when the world blew up. The world didn't literally blow up, but mine did. My candle died. I thought I took good care of it, but with its last spark, it burnt down my house. I got out, Nutmeg got out, Dove got out, Mali didn't. Dove is my dog who was currently sleeping on the couch. Mali is my- was my girlfriend. My fiancée. She tried to go back for Dove. Dove's leg had been stuck under a piece of rubble, Mali got him free. By that time, the smoke had gotten too thick for her to find her way out of, so Dove lead her out. If the smoke hadn't clogged up Dove's nose and eyes, he would have pulled Mali forward before the doorway collapsed on her. I had run forward to grab Mali as she walked through, but ended up with a crying Dove in my arms. I didn't blame Dove, how could I? He was just a little thing. He couldn't have saved Mali. Maybe I could have. If I hadn't froze. If I hadn't been too scared. This was the thing Laurie told me not to do, but now all I see when I close my eyes is her. Her eyes. Mali's eyes. Filled with smoke and terror. Her red hair frizzing around her head. A ripped shirt. It was flannel, Mali loved flannel. This particular one was yellow. Yellow was her favorite color. She loved my apple pie. I make it when I really miss her. I miss her all the time. Sometimes I don't want to make it, sometimes it hurts too much to remember all those times in the kitchen. Us standing, laughing together, making a mess with the flour. Only in these moments, when I'm acting exasperated with Meg, does my life start to feel a tiny bit normal.