The bell above the door chimed as the morning sun spilled through the windows, illuminating the warm, saccharine scent of fresh-baked bread. The baker, having just taken a batch out of the oven, expertly flipped them onto a cooling rack, while the head pastry chef delicately iced a cake. "Busy day today, huh?" murmured the baker, not breaking from the task at hand. "Aye, the townsfolk are starvin'." The pastry chef's deft hands moved from the cake to a batch of croissants. "Word has it, a newcomer's moving into town." The baker grunted, the movement of stretching the dough making it clear they weren't stellar news. "Always a buzzkill when outsiders come sniffin' around." "But can't be helped," the pastry chef said, eyes never leaving the flaky layers they were shaping. "Besides, I heard this one's a sweet shop owner from the city. Maybe they'll bring some new flavors to the mix." A moment of silence, broken only by the soft patter of icing against the cake stand. "Think they'll find it odd that we still make everything from scratch?" The baker scoffed. "Not enough room for such nonsense in our quaint little town." A low chuckle, "Oh, they might raise an eyebrow or two, but we know the truth – it's all about quality. Besides, you hearing any gossip about them?" "Just that they're friendly, I suppose." A pause, before the baker sighed, elbows resting on the counter as they exchanged a weary glance. "Time'll tell, I s'pose." The two continued on with their tasks – the soft clinking of utensils on bowls and the satisfaction of a livelihood well-done. The town's pulse beat in rhythm with their labors, and the fragrant aroma of baked goods began to attract the sleepy residents. As the day wore on, the bakery would be a haven, a taste of simple life that the newcomer, too, would surely learn to appreciate. But for now, it was just two people, finding solace in each other's company and the familiar rhythm of their work.