As Hattie placed the freshly-baked scones in the display case, the peculiar silence in the quiet town bakery caught her attention. Jennie hung back, her eyes expressionless. Unspoken words floated in the air. Hattie poured herself a cup of hot coffee and leaned onto the old wooden counter, waiting with a calming smile on her face. The clients who lingered around the bakery, sipping their tea and chatting while browsing through the pastries, appeared to be captive audiences. Jennie's gaze was fixated on an odd painting that leered ominously down from the opposite wall, chasing away the customers who had once graced this place. In her mind, she had fashioned a brilliant theory to explain the subtle disappearance rate of their loyal patrons. "Do you sometimes worry that this place isn't as friendly as it should be?" Hattie asked, gesturing to the unsettling environment around them. They had both always believed the bakery was their sanctuary. It had always been warm and inviting, the place where the townspeople came together in peace. "The painting is the problem," Jennie finally conceded. "It's even more unnerving when you glance at it from a certain angle. That's when you see the way the eyes follow you. A chill runs down my spine each time I realize it's not just a mere misunderstood artist's imagination." As the older woman smiled in understanding, her words of comfort and superstition reminded Jennie that they were part of a tranquil world she no longer recognized. Despite the unsettling atmosphere, the bakery brought them peace. Her eyes glazed over as lines of verse awakened her imagination, hoping that one day, perhaps their story would find a way to fruition.