The First Taste

Chapter 1- The Arrival

The bell above the door jingled, sharp and sudden like a drop of ice into warm syrup.

Maisie didn’t look up right away. She was finishing a drizzle—thick, dark chocolate lacing over the tart’s sugared skin. Her gloved hands moved with precision, nails painted chipped black, sleeves pushed back just enough to show the tattoo of a skeletal hand holding a whisk on her forearm. She looked like she’d bite you if you insulted her baking, and maybe cry later about it.

But when she did look up, her breath caught.

The woman who stepped inside didn’t belong in a bakery. She looked like she hadn’t belonged anywhere warm in weeks. Her long coat flapped behind her like a cape, white doctor’s badge dangling from the chest pocket. Her hair was still tied back, probably since last night, and there was a fine line of blood dried across one wrist like she’d washed her hands too quickly and never noticed.

She smelled like antiseptic.
She looked like exhaustion in heels.

“Are you still open?” she asked, voice low and hoarse from disuse or too much shouting. Maybe both.

Maisie swallowed and nodded. “Y-yeah. Yes. We’re still doing samples too.”

“God.” The woman leaned on the counter like gravity had finally won. “Good. I haven’t eaten since… Tuesday?”

It was Friday.

Behind Maisie, a soft moan slipped through the air. Clara, resplendent and massive on her custom bench, reclined like some kind of bakery Venus while Dani, perfectly composed in a flour-dusted apron, offered her another spoonful of something that glistened with caramel. Clara’s belly had spread wide beneath the table, her face pink and pleased.

Maisie cleared her throat and looked back at the woman, who hadn’t noticed them. Her eyes were locked on the pastry case like it might save her.

“Do you… want to sit?” Maisie offered, fumbling slightly as she wiped her hands. “You can sample anything. Or everything. I mean, if you want.”

“I shouldn’t,” the woman said, but she didn’t move to leave.

That was enough for Maisie.