His hands touched the pie on either side, turning red from the warmth. He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip as the deafening roar of the tornado nearly knocked him to the ground. With all his strength he pried open his jaw and pulled the pie closer. The scent was unlike anything he had ever experienced, snaking up through his nostrils and saturating every nerve. His entire body was shaking violently, but his gaze remained absolutely fixed.

Drops of saliva plopped onto the pie, just inches from his face. Lolo’s field of vision was almost completely occupied by the pastry, a few scant beams of light breaking around its borders. It was intensely bright, but he could not bring his eyes to squint. A sharp ringing noise flooded both ears, and his hair was matted in sweat.

His upper front teeth pierced the flaky upper crust.

Glistening orange and red filling burst from the wound and ran like lava from an erupting volcano, over the edge of the pan and all over Lolo’s hands. He sank his teeth deeper.