My Blueberry Nights

It was closing time. But there she stood, outside the café, looking dazed and feeling lost. She stood there for quite a while, before she walked in again. "I need someone to talk to," she said and sat down.

"Guess I'm just looking for a reason."

"Well, from my observations, sometimes it's better off not knowing.
And other times, there's no reason to be found."

"Everything has a reason."

"It's like these pies and cakes.
At the end of every night, the cheesecake and the apple pie are always completely gone.
The peach cobbler and the chocolate mousse cake are nearly finished.
But there's always a whole blueberry pie left untouched."

"So what's wrong with the blueberry pie?"

"There's nothing wrong with the blueberry pie.
It's just, people make other choices.
You can't blame the blueberry pie.
It's just no one wants it."

They wore the night out, eating the leftover pies. Him—probably an apple pie, and her—a blueberry pie with a scoop of ice-cream.

***

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