DEMETRIA

The bell above the bakery door jingled as my last customer left, arms full of pastry boxes tied neatly with gold string. I exhaled, leaning against the counter, the weight of the day finally settling into my bones. Saturdays were supposed to feel lighter, but with Monday looming ahead, it didn’t. At least Anastasia should be at any moment now. I needed the distraction. Plus, we closed at 4:00 p.m. on Saturdays, and Lord knows I was ready to lock up and sprint home.

The first tasting ...