The small town bakery smelled of fresh bread and cinnamon. Through the bell above the door jingled as someone entered. "Thought I beat you this morning." "I's a close race." The baker wiped his hands on a flour-dusted apron. "Coffee's just finished. Back there." The customer wandered to the back. "Whaddya got for pastries?" "Assorted muffins, lemon squares, cinnamon rolls. Some of those new cherry cheese Danish. Fresh bean cookies." "Hmm, that's about my favorite, you know. I'll take three." "Three green bean? Whew." He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. "Not my favorite. Can't argue with the flavor though." Place setting at the small table clinked. "I reckon it's a taste you got to acquire. Me, I could eat the whole batch. Ya want one?" "No thanks, I'm good." The bell jingled again as he turned back toward the front counter. "See ya 'round, Milt." "Ya sure ya don't want that number four? I think this is a real win."