The bell above the door jingled, signaling the entrance of a customer. The aroma of freshly baked bread enveloped the small town bakery, filling the space with its warm, inviting scent. "People are always surprised when they first walk in here," a voice began, "but I think it's the smell that grabs them first. Gets 'em every time." The voice continued, "I grew up spending Saturdays in here, watching my grandfather bake bread for the town. He taught me everything I know." A kneading board clattered softly as hands worked dough on it. The other person sighed, "You did a wonderful job with the bakery. It's just like it was yesterday I walked in here for the first time." "Thanks," the first voice responded. "I tried to keep the same feel, the same recipes. Figured if it ain't broke, don't fix it." "I heard your mom's going to be opening up a new tea room next door. That should bring in even more folks." "Yeah, she's been talking about it for months now. I'll admit, I'm a bit nervous, but it'll be good for the town." The voices fell silent for a moment, the only noise the distant hive of activity from the bakery's ovens. Then, "You're a bit of a hero in this town," the second person said. "Aw, it's nothing. Just doin' my job." "But you really showed up when we needed you. After that whole fiasco with the mayor last year...I mean, it's still the talk of the town." "Well, someone had to sort it all out. Just glad I could be the one." As the voices continued, the kneading board's rhythm slowed, the hands ceasing their work as the conversation flowed on. Outside, the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting long shadows over the small town main street. The bakery remained a haven, a constant in a world where everything changed.