It was a very special loaf.
All of her loaves were special, of course. Even the cheapest variety were mixed and moulded with love, her deft hands sculpting such plain ingredients into something so pure, so hardy.
But this one was different. The flour was imported from a continent away, the water was from the goddess’ fountain itself, and, well…the other ingredients were normal. She hoped.
She yelped, jumping backwards as the dough morphed in the bowl, growing and growing as its yeasty smell overtook the bakery.
She sighed, reaching for her broom.
Third time that week, it was.