A steady procession of headlights appeared like a string of pearls against the starry backdrop. The baker's dozen of delivery trucks raced up a thorn-embowered path to an abandoned building made of stone with skewed walls, crooked smokestacks, and a gabled roof like a funny slouched hat. A parliament of owls took flight as the mysterious convoy drove through a row of decayed wood doors at the loading dock. Lamps flickered on in the workshop like a Christmas tree lighting and smoke billowed from the chimneys.

Old stone bakery on a hill

When the curtain of the night lifted an elderly woman swung gently on a porch swing. Her grown son lolled on the rail eating a plastic wrapped snack mumbling, "Hi, Walter," to the familiar postal carrier arriving at the front stoop.

The messenger lugged his canvas bag quite out of breath, "Sure is a heavy load today. There is an announcement to every home in town about the grand re-opening of The Bakery."

"That decrepit old place?" The man laughed as he shoved the rest of the sponge cake in his mouth. "Who's going to run it, the rats?"

The woman held out her frail hand to receive the letterpress stationery reading, "For your delectation and delight." Her eyes twinkled as she vividly remembered, "When I was a child they made the most wonderful desserts." Suddenly her delicate face saddened, "Then one day... the baker's shop was just deserted."

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