I’d gazed at that name countless times, but it still felt like a dream.
I slid my key into the lock. The door swung wide, and I flipped on the lights with that same bubbly thrill I’d felt every morning for the past three weeks.
Then I glanced at the display case — and my stomach dropped.
It was half-empty.
No receipts by the till. No stray coins or bills. Just naked shelves where my lemon tarts and chocolate brioche should’ve been.
