"I'd like to blame it on the pie," she said, "because there has to be some pivot point, doesn't there, on which everything turns?" The sun was still honey in the leaves as it had been all morning, but it wasn't enough to save her, and when she lifted her hands in supplication, they fell away in pieces. She simply fell to dust. Nothing to do then, but wait for the pretty blond waitress in the blue gauze apron to come and sweep up the mess.