Kelvin ripped open the box and stared.
The pie was tall, far too tall for a normal pie. But it was just right for the mound of cream with a delightful, thick custard underneath, all sitting atop a thin, flaky crust. It was everything he hoped it would be, and more.
The pie was ready, and Kelvin grabbed his fork.
He held the fork over the pie, considering. From the side, he could be systematic about it, carving a piece at a time away. If he started in the middle, he could start with the best park.
After hemming and hawing, Kelvin finally just dropped the fork and smushed his face into it, chomping, chewing, and smiling as much as possible before coming up for air, only to return.
The pie was gone in minutes, and Kelvin smiled, his face a mess. He then started the process of peeling the remainders off to stuff into his mouth. The day was complete.