The bell above the door jingled as it swung open, letting in a burst of cool May air. The scent of fresh-baked bread and sweet pastries filled the small bakery, mingling with the hum of chatter and the clinking of dishes. A line of customers snaked back from the counter, patiently waiting for their turn to place orders. The bakers, their white aprons smeared with flour, moved with practiced efficiency, dispensing freshly brewed coffee and warm puffs of croissant. Amidst the industrious whir, a lull in conversation fell. A hushed murmur rippled through the crowd as a woman in a vibrant red jacket swept through the door, her eyes scanning the room. "I should've known I'd find you here," she purred, her gaze locking onto a stocky, balding man standing near the pastry case. "Hank, darling. I've missed you." Hank's face fell, his narrow eyes darting toward the exit. "Louise, what are you doing here?" "Couldn't stay away from my favorite flaky-finished man," she cooed, sidling up alongside him. "I heard through the grapevine about your little enterprise. Quite the ambitious endeavor." Hank's hand clenched around a rolling pin, his knuckles whitening. "You know nothing about it." "Nothing? And yet, here I am. Offering support, encouragement... a capital injection, perhaps?" Laughter bubbled in Louise's throat, her smile as sweet as the scones on the rack. "Shame on you, Hank, if you think you can run a business without your old flame's aid." A feline glint flickered in Hank's eye, the air thickening with tension. But the bakers pressed on, indifferent to the unfolding drama. The line of customers shifted, eager to forget the byplay and focus on their day's treats. Yet the sense of something sour lingered, like a hint of spoiled cream, beneath the bakery's warm embrace.