𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝟓

The morning sun streamed through the large windows of my bakery, casting a warm, golden glow over the space. The aroma of freshly baked muffins, cupcakes, and other sweet treats filled the air, mingling with the subtle scent of vanilla and cinnamon.

The scent was comforting, and familiar, like a warm embrace that welcomed everyone who walked through the door. But today, there was an undercurrent of tension that I couldn't shake.

I had opened the shop later than usual, giving myself time to compose my thoughts after the unsettling events outside my bakery. Despite the grim start to the day, I was determined to push through. The routine of running the bakery-the measuring, the mixing, the baking-had always brought me a sense of peace, and today, I needed that more than ever.

The line of customers began to form quickly, and I moved with purpose, slipping on a fresh pair of gloves as I served up treats with a smile that I hoped didn't betray the unease I felt inside.

Each muffin was placed carefully in its box, each cupcake delicately handled as if it were a fragile piece of art. The customers chatted amicably, their voices a soft hum in the background as I worked.

"Would you like the lemon poppyseed or the blueberry?" I asked a regular customer, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes who always bought a dozen muffins for her office every Friday. Today, her smile seemed a bit forced, her eyes a little too bright as she glanced around the shop.

"I'll take the blueberry," she replied, her voice warm but lacking its usual cheer. She paused for a moment, as if considering something, then leaned in slightly. "Sadira, are you okay? I heard about what happened this morning... Just down the street."

I froze for a split second, my hands hovering over the muffin tray. The memory of the crime scene flashed in my mind-the flashing lights, the body on the pavement. I quickly composed myself, forcing a smile as I handed her the box. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. It's been a bit of a shock, but... I'm managing."

She nodded, her expression softening with sympathy. "If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, that means a lot," I replied, and she gave me a reassuring smile before moving on to the cash register.

As I rang up her order, I felt the smoothness of the cash register buttons beneath my fingertips, the familiar click of each one grounding me in the moment. I always made sure to keep hand sanitizer nearby, especially after handling money.

The thought of germs always made me a little uneasy, and today, that unease seemed amplified. I quickly squirted a dollop of sanitizer into my palm, the cool gel a brief respite against the heat of the day. The sharp scent of alcohol filled the air for a moment before it faded, leaving only the sweet smell of the bakery behind.

I glanced at the clock-10:15 AM. The rush hour was beginning to peak, and I needed to stay focused. Every few minutes, I found myself wiping down the counter, the white cloth gliding over the smooth surface, erasing the faint traces of powdered sugar and crumbs left behind by the morning's orders.