@feycraft | Starter
Not a lot happened in a place like this--one small town was almost like any other, and maybe that had been the draw for this place. Molly enjoyed the bigger cities, pulsing with life and energy in whatever capacity, but there was something nostalgic about being here. About how much more at ease the locals seemed, how everyone knew everyone else's names, their families, and mostly (?) genuinely cared when they asked how they were.
The last part wasn't something she was incredibly keen on, but the thought was nice. For other people, anyway.
It was nice, however, to have lines of shops owned by locals rather than chains. While she'd never been the type to do something just because everyone else was doing it, Molly had felt the draw to open her bakery, Devil's Food, even if a lot of her fare wasn't typical for the clientele. Never seemed to stop What's-His-Face--fuck, she never remembered his name. Had he ever given it? Had she ever asked? Wasn't something she tended to do, but maybe she'd have to break the rule for the guy that came in for breakfast every morning like clockwork.
The bell on the door chimed. Speak of the devil, she thought.
"You might be the only thing keeping me in business." She remarked, continuing to move buns from the tray onto their display. It'd been a little slow, recently.