where our memories lie

Day Start

Dream turned the lock to the right, grabbing the handle and giving the door a quick tug when the know got stuck. He flipped the small wooden sign around, the side facing the outside now saying 'Closed'. A few disappointed looking couples passed by (one of them had given him quite the nasty look, too), but he paid them no mind. His little bakery closed at ten, and that's when he was locking the doors. No sooner, no later. punctual as always.

He was the same with opening. The lock always turned to the left and the sign flipped over to 'Open' right at eight AM sharp. Dream took pride in keeping his hours exact, almost as much as he maintained the quality of his products. His friend Ink would always say he was a little insane with how exact his measurements were, but there was a reason why he'd become so successful so quickly. Finding new hires wasn't a problem, either. Hours were good, and so were the wages. Each person he'd taken on to help with his little shop was a decently hard worker, too, and understood why Dream kept such a tight hold on how the place operated (or at least, they didn't complain much about it).

He turned back around and walked towards the counter, leaning over to grab the broom out of a small gap in the wall. Blue had helped a lot with some of the construction needed in the shop before opening, and insisted the little place to hide the broom was going to be fantastic for both him and his employees. They weren't wrong, it was nice to not need to go all the way into the back room just to grab the broom, especially if it was just a quick little spill. However, despite helping out so much with construction and even with promoting his business, Blue never really visited the shop himself.

Perhaps he should give him a call. He could get their number from Ink, that would be simple enough.. as long as the artist didn't derail the conversation with all his chatter about ghosts again.

It's not that Dream didn't believe in them, no- he simply wasn't a fan. Not a fan at all, in fact, especially after what his family had experienced in his younger years. Nightmare-

WHAM

Dream was startled out of his thoughts by the loud noise, the shop owner tightening his hold on the broom and raising it like a weapon. He turned his gaze towards the front door and relaxed, cooling his expression and covering it up with an annoyed glare. A pair of gloved hands were splayed out on his clean glass door, Ink's paint-stained face pressed against the glass. 

Waving him off, he turned back around to finish his sweeping job before even thinking about letting the smaller skeleton in. The last time he went and opened Ink in before finishing his duties, the artist had started on a rant the moment he was let in and walked right through the dust pile on the floor. 

Never again, thank you very much.

Ink was already pushing the door open and scooting under Dream's arm the moment the lock clicked left, rushing towards the counter and bracing himself to jump onto the top. It took him a couple tries, but he eventually got settled sitting on the countertop and swinging his legs. Taking in the baker's frustrated glare, he put up his hands in a defensive gesture.

"I'll clean it! Promise! I just have to tell you what I found out earlier. Like, two minutes ago."