The old baker watched his new apprentice knead dough with a guarded expression. The kid was good. He worked hard and never complained about the hours. But something bothered him. “What made you pick up the trade?” He asked.
The bell on the front door tinkled, even though it should’ve been locked. The kid grinned.
“Baking is the expression of consequence. You make something and you see how it turns out.”
The baker reached under the counter and found the hidden gun. He didn’t know how they found him after all these years, but he wouldn’t go without a fight.

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