Post by ali on Dec 31, 2017 13:23:34 GMT -5
VALENCIA
You grin, a large pleasant smile that is almost sickly as you open the door to the bakery. You have worked at the bakery every weekend since you were 13, and still the smell as you step inside, a fresh concoction of fresh dough, sweet pastries and warming ovens, never fails to blow you away. “Good Morning!” You says cheerfully to the elderly woman behind the counter, the owner of the bakery and your boss.
As much as you want to continue the babble and ramble about what had happened in the few hours between you leaving work last night and now, the prospect of making cupcakes draws your attention. You love baking, it somehow brings an even bigger smile to your face and in a world where you experience so little affection, it is everything to you.
As you work on the batter, you think of how this little indulgence was almost a myth to you growing up. Your mother, while not a bad person, was consumed by her addictions and seldom paid attention to you unless she was beating you for merely breathing. You grew up in poverty, without a father in the picture or a mother who could keep her jobs to put food on the table.
The bakery saved your life. Ms Zane saw you, 13 years old a skeleton wrapped in skin with hollow eyes and without a smile, and was heart broken. She had a daughter like you once, and perhaps you reminded her of the lost daughter and that's why she offered to teach you how to make bread. She allowed you to take the bread home with you for free and you came back the next day with some colour in your cheeks and eager to learn more.
Your life changed for the better that day and you haven't looked back since.
As much as you want to continue the babble and ramble about what had happened in the few hours between you leaving work last night and now, the prospect of making cupcakes draws your attention. You love baking, it somehow brings an even bigger smile to your face and in a world where you experience so little affection, it is everything to you.
As you work on the batter, you think of how this little indulgence was almost a myth to you growing up. Your mother, while not a bad person, was consumed by her addictions and seldom paid attention to you unless she was beating you for merely breathing. You grew up in poverty, without a father in the picture or a mother who could keep her jobs to put food on the table.
The bakery saved your life. Ms Zane saw you, 13 years old a skeleton wrapped in skin with hollow eyes and without a smile, and was heart broken. She had a daughter like you once, and perhaps you reminded her of the lost daughter and that's why she offered to teach you how to make bread. She allowed you to take the bread home with you for free and you came back the next day with some colour in your cheeks and eager to learn more.
Your life changed for the better that day and you haven't looked back since.
