The heat was not treating his pie well. Dom poked up a bit of whipped topping from where it threatened to slump over the graham cracker crust and entered the large, rickety-looking structure that had a simple paper sign taped to the door reading, “Contest entries.” To his dismay, it wasn’t any cooler inside than it had been outside, but it was dimmer.
And strange. He had been expecting a wide, open space, like a barn, but instead the interior of the cheap structure seemed to be a maze of long, thin rooms. Immediately on entering, he could go one of three ways, down toward children’s, sides, or desserts. He chose desserts.
Card tables were lined up along one wall, containing entries with little printed numbers next to them. Dom made his way to the end, turned, and entered into another ser
