The little bell above the door dings, signaling your arrival. You watch as Maxwell emerges from the back, dusting flour-covered hands on a white apron. The entire place smells like pastries and sugar and food that’s made excellent simply because the person making it likes to do what they do.

He stares down at the pastries in the display, shuffling and rearranging to make the various deserts look more appetizing than they already are, hollering out a premature, “Welcome to Mutia-Gutiérrez Pastries, I’ll be with you in a moment.”

True to his words, he looks up a moment later. You get the pleasure of watching a wide grin spread across his features as he realizes it’s you and not some random customer. “Oh, It’s you! Hey, how’s your day? How you feelin’? You want your usual, or are you just here to bug me today? Wouldn’t be shocked if it was the latter,” he teases fondly, flicking some flour in your general direction.