The main reading room of the Oakhaven Public Library was a sanctuary of hushed reverence. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing over mahogany tables. Maggie sat immersed in the middle of a massive hardback, its pages filled with historical maps. She was so engrossed that the light tap on her shoulder startled her, making her jump in her seat.
She looked up, annoyed, and found herself facing Ms. Eleanor Finch, the head librarian. Ms. Finch was a formidable woman whose crisp cardigan and severe spectacles projected an air of unyielding discipline. Today, however, Ms. Finch was smiling--a wide, almost unnerving smile.
"Hello, Maggie," the librarian whispered, her voice carrying a strange, almost theatrical cheerfulness. "I noticed you're quite comfortable here, but I just wanted to mention something..."
Maggie frowned. "Yes, Ms. Finch?"
"It seems you have a copy of The History of Forgotten Guilds that is exactly three weeks and four days overdue."
Maggie's heart sank. She had totally forgotten it was tucked under her bed. "Oh! I am so sorry, I'll return it immediately and pay the--"
Ms. Finch didn't wait for her to finish. With a speed that belied her gentle appearance, the librarian produced a massive, silver pie tin from behind her back. Before Maggie could even register the mountain of white, fluffy whipped cream piled high upon it, Ms. Finch delivered the pastry with surgical precision.
SPLAT.
The impact was shocking, cold, and blindingly soft. Maggie was instantly plunged into a suffocating, dairy-rich darkness. The force of the pie knocked her glasses askew, and a tsunami of sweet, thick cream cascaded over her face and neck, oozing down the front of her patterned sweater and soaking into the pages of her open book.
The librarian simply placed the aluminum pie tin flat against Maggie's face, ensuring it stuck perfectly. The rim of the tin pressed against Maggie's nose, holding the remaining goo firmly in place.
"There now," Ms. Finch said, her tone reverting to the calm, satisfied murmur one might use after shelving a particularly tall stack of biographies. "That takes care of your fine."
Maggie stood frozen, her senses reeling, the world reduced to the scent of sugar and the muffled sound of her own breathing. When Ms. Finch finally walked away, a giggle escaping her lips, the librarian took a moment to adjust the pie tin, revealing a small, stark sign taped to the back: OVERDUE BOOKS.
Maggie sat perfectly still, thick, white rivulets dripping onto the floor, the metallic chill of the pie tin pressing into her cheeks. The silence of the library had returned, somehow heavier now, a testament to the bizarre, creamy justice that had just been served.