Beryl was just thinking about peach cobbler when one appeared before her.
It was hot, fresh, and had no reason for being other than Beryl’s thinking of it. The steam rose from the the cobbler, sitting in its white ceramic bowl, and Beryl wondered what it was doing, why it was, if it was edible; all in that order.
There was no spoon or fork to go with the cobbler, and it looked too hot to handle. Beryl sighed and pushed the cobbler away, only to hear the clink of ceramic on metal. She looked behind the bowl, and found a spoon sitting there, waiting to be used.
Okay, Beryl thought to herself. This is strange.
Still, cobbler was cobbler, and a spoon was a spoon. She picked up the spoon and started to eat.
It was, of course, just peachy. Beryl soon finished the cobbler, smiling and the sweet after-taste. Delicious and nutritious, she thought to herself. I could use another.
As she turned back to her computer, Beryl noticed another bowl of steaming cobbler waiting for her. She looked at, puzzled, then shrugged. In for a penny, she thought.