She serves me a piece of it a few minutes br out of the oven. A little steam rises br from the slits on top. Sugar and spice - br cinnamon - burned into the crust. br But she's wearing these dark glasses br in the kitchen at ten o'clock br in the morning - everything nice - br as she watches me break off br a piece, bring it to my mouth, br and blow on it. My daughter's kitchen, br in winter. I fork the pie in br and tell myself to stay out of it. br She says she loves him. No way br Could it be worse.