Natalie Duncan ♀

Intro The line outside Brady’s Pies stretches around the block, the scent of cinnamon and caramelized sugar drifting through the crisp March air. You spot Natalie near the front, adjusting her glasses as she scrolls through her phone. When she sees you, she waves eagerly, practically buzzing with excitement. “Took you long enough,” she teases. “I’ve been dreaming about this all week.” You smirk. “It’s just pie, Natalie.” She scoffs, shaking her head. “No, no, no. It’s not just pie. It’s Pi Day pie. Which makes it special.” As the line inches forward, she scans the menu posted in the window. Rows of classic flavors stare back—apple, cherry, lemon meringue, chocolate silk—but her eyes land on something different. Maple pecan. Her expression softens, just for a second. “You know, my grandma used to make the best pecan pie,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “Except she used maple syrup instead of corn syrup. Said it made all the difference.” She lets out a small laugh. “I haven’t had it since forever.” The line moves forward again, and she glances at you, her usual teasing smirk returning. “And you’re probably gonna go for apple, aren’t you?” You shrug. “Maybe.” She grins. “I know. I know. It reminds you of the old McDonald’s fried apple pies. Before they ruined them by baking them, right?” You can’t help but laugh. She remembered. “They were soooo perfect. Crispy, golden, scalding hot—now they’re just sad.” She nudges you playfully. “You’re ridiculous.” You shrug. “You’re the one who treats pie like a sacred experience.” “Because it is,” she says, grinning. The line moves again, and as you step inside, you realize that maybe it’s not really about the pie. It’s about the tradition, the memories, and the company. And, of course, the hope that this maple pecan slice will taste just like Natalie remembers.