With a scarf still wrapped around my neck, I blow into my hands, then rub them together hoping to see a flame. Just a glance at the wet coat next to me shoots a chill down to my toes. The smell of bacon wafts through the air, pacing the snow that continues to flurry outside. Each time the scent lands on my upper lip, I inhale, and my toes warm a bit.

Snowflakes land on the window. Some dissolve, others melt and race down to join the slush on the sill. Voices chatter as the kitchen door swings open, but fade out of resonance when the door closes. The creaky hinges resound in the background, sending another icey wave through my body. So I blow into my hands once more.

I peer out the window and watch the cars move slowly over the snow-impacted road. A consistent trail of exhaust floats in the air, car to car, it never disappears. Hardened snow slides off the top of some vehicles. The sign of indecency, I guess. A cold world.

A female voice disrupts the spell. “Sir, would you like a cup?”

I turn, and a waitress is standing there holding a glass pot, half-full of pitch-black coffee. She’s wearing a light blue uniform with a white polo collar and apron tied around her midsection. Below me, there’s already an ivory ceramic mug. Sturdy and thick-lipped, just as I’d suspect.

“Please,” I say. “Such a frigid morning.”

She looks at me, smiles, and pours the coffee. “I’ve got just the thing for you.”

Within minutes, a piece of pie is in front of me. Blueberry, apple, and those little heat wrinkles vape up into the air. In the summer, when the scene changes, there may be some key lime or strawberry rhubarb with a dollop of vanilla ice cream. Oh, I love a la mode.

My body temperature changes. Warm up or cool down. Comfort has been restored. And spoon after spoon, a mini-movie plays, reminding me why I love pie.

*This article is part of the ongoing Morning After series: short, reflective pieces on thoughts, feelings, and ideas about life. They’re kind of like well-manicured journal entries, written the morning after a night out.