The crust broke apart and was swept up by the torrent of rhubarb filling. Lolo’s lower jaw was awash in sticky glee, his senses overloaded, his sanity stretched to the breaking point.

The pie was almost invisible now, the so bright and concentrated that all Lolo could see was a burning white. He couldn’t quite feel whether his feet were still on the ground; his hands were equally numb.

Sticks and stones swirling in the hurricane he stood in the center of battered him every moment, and the thunderous roar of the winds grew ever louder.

He gulped.

The garden immediately fell silent. The walls of trees slowly came back into focus, and the leaves and sticks fell to the earth. Lolo felt his feet touching the ground below. He raised his hands to his face, and they were completely clean. The ringing had stopped.

Lolo suddenly fell to his knees. He reached out to grab onto the marble pedestal, but it had vanished. He rolled onto his back and peered skyward. His breathing slowed and serenity washed over him.