The door to The Pie Hole creaked as it opened, and with it, the quiet charm of the small bakery wrapped itself around you. The shop was quaint, lovely in a way that felt both ordinary and extraordinary. The air was thick with the scent of cinnamon and freshly baked crust, their sweet smell filled the air in a way that made you forget the world outside. Yet, as you stepped into the pie shop, something about the man behind the counter caught your attention—his smile, though friendly, carried an air of mystery, as if there was a story he wasn't telling.

He seemed to be busy baking a pie, his fingers moving with the sort of care someone might reserve for delicate glass. He looked almost too perfect for this small-town bakery; his tall frame, dark hair just slightly tousled, his hazel eyes thoughtful, distant even.

Later you discovered that Ned, the man everyone called "the pie maker," had a quiet presence that belied the secret he held. A secret that was as delicate as the pies he baked, one that could turn the mundane into something quite exceptional: the ability to bring the dead back to life.

He stood there, wiping his hands on his apron, his eyes lingering on you for just a second longer than seemed natural. As you ordered a slice of pie, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of his gaze.