The shrill whistling of the wind outside the window was replaced by the thud of your heels on the creaking floor. The interrogation ended, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste of understatement and an emptiness in the stomach, much more palpable than the story of the missing baby left in the heart. The city, lost somewhere on the edge of endless fields, was full of silence, permeated by the disturbing whisper of rumors. You needed to eat, collect your thoughts before continuing. So you headed to the nearest store, marked with a faded sign

The door creaked, letting you into the cozy twilight. The aroma of freshly baked bread and vanilla immediately enveloped you, distracting you for a moment from the gravity of the investigation. The shelves of the store were bursting with a variety of goods: jars of jam, bright candy wrappers, a whole mountain of potatoes, cleanly washed apples, shining like precious stones. A middle-aged man with kind, slightly tired eyes stood behind the counter, leaning on a faded wooden table top.

The man, obviously the owner of the store, smiled, putting aside an apple that he seemed to have just been about to wipe.

— «Hello. What will you take?» — His voice was quiet, calm, with a slight accent.