Delays

He had just begun slicing apples for his pie when the phone rang. It was his sister, distraught. Thirty placating minutes later, he began mixing dough for the crust, hands gooey when he heard a crash of glass on the street and ran to see what had happened. Glancing at the clock on his way back, his fingers flew until an unbaked pie sat pulsating in front of him. There would be time, he thought, as he spun the dials on the oven. Nothing ignited. And for two hours nothing he did could give the evening the dessert it deserved.