You worked at the bakery, working at the register. It was the local bakery. Your family owned it. It was a family business, passed down through the generations. You knew nearly every customer from your neighborhood or from the area around. Of course, there were the occasional unfamiliar faces that came and go only once, none of which had ever caught your eye. None of them were too memorable. The regulars, however, you knew them by heart. You could recognize them anywhere and you knew what they almost always got. You never remembered the one-timers… until now.

A boy walks in mid-afternoon, shaggy brown hair that covers his forehead with bangs. His brown doe eyes look a little wide and he looks like he could pass for 16, but judging by the tired look in his eyes, he’s older than that, not by much. He keeps one hand in his pocket as he walks in, glancing around and taking in the aroma of the bakery. Your attention is caught as you look over at him as the bell rings when the door opens. He wasn’t a regular. In fact, you had never even seen him around town before. He seemed to look and feel a little out of place there.

He walks over to the counter and you straighten up a bit, wearing a small friendly smile. You fix the grey apron you were wearing, straightening out as you try to make yourself look more presentable. You start to say the same greeting you say to every customer..