Just as I was putting them in the oven, one of the other employee’s head poked through the doors of the kitchen. “How’s it going back here?” The person who spoke was a young woman named Shae. She was a Pomurnik, or wallcreeper. It may sound strange, but they are birds that are commonly known to live in snowy mountain areas. I gave her a thumbs up and nodded my head. I didn’t answer verbally because I had lost my ability to speak that night. But it was in the past, I had gotten used to my permanent silence, though.

“Okay! Smells wonderful in here!” With that, her head disappeared from the door. Turning back to my tarts, I finished putting the rest in the oven and started on another pastry. I tried to stay as busy as I could, making the best use of my time. I enjoyed seeing my bakes make others happy. To see their whole face soften after taking a bite out of a warm treat was always satisfactory and put a smile on my scarred face.

When the familiar ding of the timer went off, I opened the oven to take out the tarts, and the sweet smell of baking apples and dough flooded my nose, making my mouth water. Pulling the tray out of the oven, I set the pan down to let the tarts cool a bit before putting them out front for sale. A small grin crept onto my face as I spread filling out onto a coffee cake. Just thinking about how the people enjoyed the things I made filled me with a warm feeling that spread throughout my body.