Before Sunrise

Owen opened the bakery at five, when Winter Street belonged to delivery vans and exhausted nurses. Every Thursday, a woman in blue scrubs bought the smallest loaf. One morning her card failed. He offered yesterday's bread rather than making a scene. She accepted and promised to return. The following week she paid for both loaves and left a handwritten note: "Thank you for letting a difficult morning stay small." Owen put it beside the oven timer, where he could read it before the rush.