365 Days (Part 1) | ✓

168. Baker's Dozen

168. Baker's Dozen: Imagine the scents and sights of a bakery and write.

The light from the bakery held a warmth to it -- maybe it was because of the darkness outside or maybe it was because with the release of light came the release of a variety of smells. After a cold day spent along, she was glad to enter this cocoon of heat, glad to step into the embrace of a friendly bakery.

It was a narrow room, reminiscent of stereotypical European pastry shops from movies. A display case ran down the length of the room with a counter behind it. Each of the goods offered behind the clear glass was arranged with attractive herbs and sprigs of flowers for a more picturesque look. She inhaled the scents of fresh bread and other newly-baked treats, until the aromas infiltrated deep within her lungs.

The bell above the door made a little dinging noise as she stepped in, and it echoed for a second even after she shut the door behind her, closing out the dark streets and chill wind. A man behind the counter looked up with a smile already gracing his face. He was middle-aged; perhaps a trifle older than that. The beauty of him was in his smile, which was ever present, even when his lips were not curved. Then it showed in his eyes with a twinkle intended just for the person he focused on.

When he saw who his customer was, he smiled even wider. She had a feeling he did this with everyone, just to make them feel even more welcome and especially regarded.

"Ah, I have heard you were leaving. How proud we are of you!" he exclaimed, raising his arms, as if to show her the physical representation of such pride.

"Yes, I go tonight," she said softly, but the joy in him was not present in her.

His limbs sagged a little. "You don't seem happy."

She stepped along the display case, her restless eyes roving among its contents. "I don't want to go," she admitted. "I always thought I did, but I don't want to leave home now."

"I see." His arms dropped and he gazed at her thoughtfully. "Does not your friend go with you?"

A slight smile graced her lips. It was instinctive. "Yes, he is going to Edinburgh too. That's the good part. I get to be with him."

He began to clean, swiping the lovingly worn counter with an old and hole-marked rag. "Ah, madam, all you need is one person to bring your home with you. He is your home, yes?"

"I did say that," she agreed, stopped and standing before him. He was just a nice baker man in a town she grew up in. She had no clear idea of why she had gone to him on this most tumultuous night within her heart.

"Goodbyes are always bittersweet. They tear at the heart because pieces of your heart are get caught with things. You go with him that you love, though, and you go for yourself. Perhaps you could stay, yes, but there was a reason for you to leave in the first place. Shall you not heed it too?" He looked up at her, his expression both kind and suggesting.

She bit her lip and stared at his food. It was his pride, to make superior baked goods. She thought it a well-placed one. "I'll take a blueberry muffin, please."

He reached inside the case and withdrew the moist item, placing it in a checked bag and handing it over the counter. "On me today."

She smiled. "Thank you," she said, and she meant for more than just the muffin.