when i first walked into a bakery, my nose did a little dance because it smelled soooo good, like a hug from my grandma but with flour and sugar. the baker, with flour on his nose, smiled at me and it felt like he could sidestep sadness with just that smile. he told me stories of how he would rekindle the ovens every morning, long before the sun wakes up, creating magical decrees that turn dough into bread. and even though i came in unannounced, he made me feel like i was an initial spark in a day full of sweet adventures.