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estdeus_innobisDay 346, 12 May
Wednesday morning
The Bakery
I’ve taken a few days to think over what Glass said and what I’ve been wanting to do for some time now. Pies are all well and good, but I know pies. And I really know precious little about cakes or different kinds of bread, yeasted and not. I can make them well enough for us at home, but they’re not professional. And I suppose that’s what it comes down to. I’m not professional. I’m just the pie girl. I’ve been the pie girl for nearly ten years, and I could go on being the pie girl for ten more or twenty or until I die. And that would drive me mad.
So I’ve plucked up the courage to walk into town and over to the bakery. The worst he can do it turn me away. I know he won’t laugh in my face. At least, I think I do. I think he’s not that kind of person. He’s always seemed kind on the few occasions I’ve spoken to him. And I’m the nearest thing to competition that he has in Excolo. He didn’t have any reason to be kind to me.
I walk into the bakery, not boldly, but at least looking like I want to be here. I don’t even let myself look at the wares, the fancy sugar things and the chocolate. There’ll be time for that later. I’ve only been in this place once before, but if I get what I’ve come here for, I’ll be seeing a lot of it.
“Is Mr. White in the back?” I ask the man at the counter, and then I knot my hands in my skirt and wait.
After a long while, he comes back and says no, he can't come out, which doesn't mean he isn't there. I think about asking, but I don't want to be a bother, so I just nod and go out.
Maybe it's not meant to be.
[OPEN to Edmund (and Johnny, should he care to be there)]
[CLOSED]
Wednesday morning
The Bakery
I’ve taken a few days to think over what Glass said and what I’ve been wanting to do for some time now. Pies are all well and good, but I know pies. And I really know precious little about cakes or different kinds of bread, yeasted and not. I can make them well enough for us at home, but they’re not professional. And I suppose that’s what it comes down to. I’m not professional. I’m just the pie girl. I’ve been the pie girl for nearly ten years, and I could go on being the pie girl for ten more or twenty or until I die. And that would drive me mad.
So I’ve plucked up the courage to walk into town and over to the bakery. The worst he can do it turn me away. I know he won’t laugh in my face. At least, I think I do. I think he’s not that kind of person. He’s always seemed kind on the few occasions I’ve spoken to him. And I’m the nearest thing to competition that he has in Excolo. He didn’t have any reason to be kind to me.
I walk into the bakery, not boldly, but at least looking like I want to be here. I don’t even let myself look at the wares, the fancy sugar things and the chocolate. There’ll be time for that later. I’ve only been in this place once before, but if I get what I’ve come here for, I’ll be seeing a lot of it.
“Is Mr. White in the back?” I ask the man at the counter, and then I knot my hands in my skirt and wait.
After a long while, he comes back and says no, he can't come out, which doesn't mean he isn't there. I think about asking, but I don't want to be a bother, so I just nod and go out.
Maybe it's not meant to be.
[CLOSED]
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