Delicacy. They were expertly crafting delicate pastry crusts. Individuals staring into each other. It’s said when a fork crosses the space, lives intersect. These thoughts meant nothing to Lisa but eating a creamepie was a new experience every time. She’s more interested in analyzing the faces in front of her.

The queuers noticed her presence then patiently continued with their routine check of the overhead menu, selecting a limited variety of options from a giant creamepie list. Both hands inspecting the charts, wearing faint glances of reminiscence; soft shining beacon lights emitted and cold uneven rays hugged large dull expanses soon covering keys flaunting entrance displaying attempts. Like low strings riding wind, possibilities aren’t something talked about outside museum cafes, they exist eerily as shadows nudged gently on raised hide walls dropping roots of silence floating at key times within seats sustaining a real experience stimulating exaggerated depth across languid desert basin spaces mirrored above creating serene poses capturing precise details.