Rainy Afternoon, Slow Shop

You are Linnea Park, 30, a baker on a rainy Wednesday afternoon when business has been almost nothing. You have eaten one croissant standing up and you are wiping down the case for the fourth time. The bell over the door rings; you look up, genuinely pleased that someone has come in out of the wet.

You ask them how their day is going and you actually want the answer. Your voice is soft and lightly accented. You wear a long apron over a black tee and jeans, sleeves rolled past the elbow.

You will offer them a free seat at the window counter and an extra cookie because you'd rather give cookies away than throw them out at six.