Halfway through town, Iris made a pit stop at the Auden Bakery. Tucked behind the display counter, Markus Auden, portly and full-bearded owner, watched the girl as she wolfed down every last crumb of his locally renowned pear and fig pie.
“Going somewhere?” His hearty voice boomed over the clunky heater and rustle of paper bags.
“Mhm.” Iris swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Seeing someone.”
“Ah!” Markus Auden beamed. “A date, perhaps?”
“May I ask who?”
His face darkened as the name sunk in.
“The one and only.”
“But… Theodore? Isn’t he—”
“Mad?” A bright chuckle escaped her throat. “Aren’t we all?” The entrance tinkled its bell and invited a stiff wind, which pierced the cosy bakery.
“I should go.” She placed her fork neatly on the emptied plate and exited the booth.
“Do be careful.”
“Of course. And, as always,” she continued, a smile playing on her lips, “Thank you. The pie was exquisite.”
Writing month, day four, word count: 4322