Elias ran a bakery not with flour and yeast, but with moments of lost joy. His storefront on Stardust Lane was unremarkable by day, but after midnight, he baked tangible feelings.
The little silver bells above the door chimed, admitting a woman whose face was etched with worry lines.
"I need patience," she said, wringing her hands. "A whole batch. Maybe two dozen."
Elias nodded, his hands already moving toward jars labeled Evening Calm and Soft Humor. He worked the subtle essences into a shimmering dough, the air filling with the faint aroma of fresh rain and quiet smiles.
He slid the tray into an antique oven. The heat didn't just bake; it concentrated emotion. The woman watched the oven door anxiously.
"They won't last long, you know," Elias said gently. "A day, maybe two. Feelings are meant to be consumed and replenished, not hoarded."
Elias understood. He prepared another batch: Slight Hope turnovers for a young man applying for jobs, and Focused Determination biscuits for a student studying for exams.
He never partook in his own wares. Elias believed a baker should maintain a neutral palate to perfectly balance his recipes. He was content to watch his customers leave his shop a little lighter, a little brighter.
When the woman left with her carefully boxed Patience, the street lights seemed to glow a little warmer. Elias cleaned his counter, a simple satisfaction settling over him. He might not eat happiness, but he certainly manufactured it, and that was enough to keep the midnight hours feeling useful.
I can continue to provide new stories as long as you request them! Just say "continue" again for the next one
"I know," she sighed. "But my family needs them for the holiday visit. I just need a little cushion."
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