The sun illuminated the bakery in a lovely, heavenly stupor that allowed the roof of the bakery to seem a little more elevated than of days previous. The snow outside, still present from the day before in little patches of white that dotted the landscape in a lovely, Polk a dot fashion. The kids resided back in school, men seemed to confine back into their cubicles, and all was quiet except for the occasional pedestrian or car; all seemed peaceful, and weirdly enough, out of all of the most beautiful and wonderful days, all seemed to be empty.

With the emptiness of the neighborhood outside, as many adults went to work, and the kids resumed school, the bakery remained empty for the duration of the day. Not a soul rung the bell when opening the door, and not a soul walked past with a glance at the shop. While the earth slumbered, man seemed busy at work.

It was truly depressing of the emptiness of the city, contrasting the loudness and openness of joy with the children playing on the day previous. It was as if life was given, and then taken back the day after. Not a man came out of any buildings until the end of the workday, where then, I could only see tired walks, and narrowed faces.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

As the baron neighborhood started to fill with people going home, I noticed that no one made eye contact, no one communicated with one another, no one went into any shops, or bars, or meeting halls. Instead, the destination for everyone, almost as if told in complete unison, was to the home, and, as if in a blink of an eye, the workers that had filled the streets, went home, and returned the road desolate once more. And again, life, that almost was seemed to be granted, was sucked away, and not a soul stirred in the road. I decided to close off shop; no one came, and no one would come. The day turned Wednesday, and the roads seemed to get more desolate as the days kept coming. I hoped I would get business soon, but it seemed I could not sustain myself if the current trend of work to home represented by the people outside persisted another month or so.

I counted my few blessings, locked up the shop, ate the unsold bread from days ago, and finally went to sleep. The bread was stale, and the blankets were cold, and the snow turned from a beautiful painting to a bitter annoyance.