Sanders Sides Waitress Au (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 3: What Baking Can Do

Virgil entered the diner once again, but this time with heavy footsteps. He headed straight to the kitchen to start making more pies. Pies were Virgil's solace; he used them as a distraction from all the troubles in the world. All his emotions, whether happy, sad, angry, or just plain bored, they all went into these precious creations of his, because even doubt could be delicious. His hands moved in a delicate motion, crafting the sugar, butter, and flour into a pie base. Next, he added a sweet blueberry filling and topped the filling with more crust. Perfect. It was already smelling wonderful, despite not feeling the warmth of the oven beforehand. Virgil slid it into the oven, and focused his gaze on the next uneven bunch of crust he was going to shape into the beautiful, defined shape of a pie. He smiled at the thought of it being on someone else's plate, the look on their faces when they enjoyed his pies, all the while moving his hands in a practised motion. By the time the first pie was ready to be taken out of the oven, the second one had already finished taking shape. Virgil took the first pie out and replaced it with the second pie. The strong aroma of the pie drifted throughout the whole kitchen, such that if other people took a whiff of it, they would want to taste the crusty creation immediately. Virgil smiled at his handiwork. Swiftly, he took a few lemon wedges from the fridge and placed them on the pie in a neat fashion. It was finally ready to be put on display for all to see, and when people chose that pie as their snack or mid-day meal, he could slice it and serve his worries away, and watch them gobble up his creation. Fill their hungry stomachs. Change that emotionless face into a satisfied expression.

Maybe that's what baking does for others.

Virgil gathered the next bunch of ingredients for the next pie before the second pie was hot and steamy from the oven, ready to be taken out. He focused on making the pies look presentable, making up a door for himself to escape from life's troubles. At least, that's what he learnt from his father. His hands immediately stopped moving at the thought of his father, like it was his pause button. How did he do it...? Virgil sighed. Shaking his head, he returned to the task at hand. Baking had always been Virgil's coping mechanism. As he watched the pie crumbs take form, he worked quickly, but meticulously, as he always thought, make it soon; make it better. Though, he thought, better never lasts forever. He turned his thoughts back towards building the foundation of the pie. Then the walls. The walls were always easy to crumble down, however if he did it properly, it would be stable. Just like situations in life. In his life. Virgil sighed, his thoughts drifting away back to his father. What his father had to deal with. It was funny no matter how many doors his father baked, both of them never once tried to walk through and out of them. Why hadn't he asked his father about this? What would he have said? Virgil would never know.

"Ughh, I'm getting off track!" Virgil audibly groaned. Powdering his hands with flour, he was going to fulfill his ambition of baking as many pies as he could that day and show them all how goddamn happy he was. After all, sugar, butter, and flour had never let him down before. The oven made that noise again, and the second pie was ready. Virgil was keen to see the next amazing thing baking did for him.