These are stolen moments, when I have my finger in someone else's pie. Always a warm pie, beckoning with delicate pastry crust, sticky-sweet filling, a pie that might otherwise grow cold and fly-specked on the windowsill.
I'm not a greedy man. I want that one, unnoticed taste.
I'll leave the pie nearly whole.
You won't even know I've been there.
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This started as a 53-word story. It's not much longer now. I might expand - I'm curious just how sinister I can make it. Sinister was not my initial intention.
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Me, too. *
Hm. Never heard it described that way, but.... *
Oh. "Pie."
When I wrote this story, in my own mind it was sex - someone who serially cheats. I didn't figure the narrator was himself married, but his one-time partners were, or were at least in relationships. Now, months later, I'm considering expanding and taking in a different direction. Perhaps someone who enters dreams. It took putting it up here on Fictionaut to make me think that way - so thanks!
*
*, Epiphany. I like this a lot. Interesting to me is that I think this story's charm is that it can mean what the reader needs it to mean.