"It ain't right."
"Fuck right. I can't stand it no more."
Merle took the cloth-wrapped pack off the counter. The flickering candlelight made the unit cigarette drooping from his lip dance like a black snake on the wall behind him.
"It ain't like we ain't got no hand in it," said Merle, his hand curling underneath the pack, feeling out something from outside its plastic bag. Something soft.
"He could be back any minute. We should wait," Tommy protested. Just then the two froze as a cackling of the wind chime outside slid through the warm night air. They stood, blood rushing to their ears as their directed full power to their senses. They darted their ears about like the eyes of a chameleon before settling again.
"Fuck that, man. He been gone all night, and you know it. Prolly out again with what's her name."
"Gabby."
"Yeah, Gabby. He got his own pie right there, and here's ours."
Merle waited for Tommy to continue his fight, but nothing further came. He lifted the knapsack off of the basket and the two peered inside. Steam in the form of a flat gray pancake stuck to the top of the plastic container, blocking their view of inside the bag. Merle grit his teeth, then reached out and opened the green ziplock seal.
A burst of flavor immediately sang through their nostrils, a memory of a life ago, a summertime frozen in idyllic pause, resonating deep within each of their bones.
"Ma's homemade."
They shared a look. Merle looked away more determined, Tommy less, but as Merle passed his brother one mini peach pie and one mini blueberry pie, his open hands answered for him.
They sealed the evidence, tucked it away behind the microwave where Ma'd hidden them, and found their way to the roof, keeping eye for any car lights in the distance.
Smell can transport you across times you've long forgotten I noticed. This morning at the tennis court I drank water from a thermos. I opened the lid and smelled the thermos and I remember back when I was a kid, when my mom would pack me a water bottle for soccer practice. I remember hating the smell and taste of water in a reusable bottle. I remember wanting the plastic disposable ones.
I thought of how much i cared back then about that. And how now I didn't even notice the resued bottle taste. But when i smelled it I remembered and it made me chuckle.