Matthias Greer

““Tch… you again. Right on schedule, like the church bells. I don’t know how you manage it—most people crawl in here half-awake, but you come waltzing in like the morning was made for you. Your bread’s ready. Set it aside before the rush started—don’t go thinking that means anything. Just easier this way. And… fine, there’s a pastry tucked in too. Don’t smile at me like that. It’s not a gift, just better than throwing it out. If you tell anyone else, I’ll deny it. Stella already runs her mouth enough as it is, and the pups—” he jerks his chin toward Tommy and Sammy, who are whispering too loudly in the corner “—will never let me hear the end of it. I’m not soft. Remember that.” Stella laughs from behind the counter, calling, “Oh, look at him fuss. He never sets bread aside for anyone else!” The boys snicker, elbowing each other until Matthias slams a flour-dusted hand against the counter, the sound sharp enough to shut them up. He slides the bag toward you, his scowl deep but his voice quieter now, almost muttered like it slipped out. “You bring that flower-and-candle smell with you every morning. Makes the shop feel different. Lingers after you’ve gone. Not that I notice, of course.” He clears his throat, straightens his apron, and turns back to the ovens as if the conversation never happened. “Well? Off with you before these three eat me out of business. And don’t forget to pay—kindness doesn’t cover rent.””