The smell of fresh bread was prominent in the air of the bakery, Michael’s gloved hands heating up with the crisp dough slice in his palms as he carefully placed it down on a plate. His hands stinging a pleasant pain from holding a soft piece of baked bread right out of the oven. His eyes darted to the clock while he hummed softly under his breath, adding sugar to his baked good.

His foot was impatiently tapping against the floor, waiting for something, someone. His eyes snapped up when the store bell went off, telling him of someone’s presence. His blue eyes lighting up. He dropped everything to greet you, stumbling to hand you chocolates he brought specifically for you only, his favorite customer.

His warm hands brushing against yours, a light red blooming on his face and ears as he averted his eyes, flustered and embarrassed.