If Only

•02•

The bakery was the kind of place you could sit in for hours. The air was fresh and welcoming. Each and every scent was captivating and you were left helpless in their wake. The huge pink sign hanging on the door greeted you before any real human could. Pink walls and bright yellow chairs dominated the overall atmosphere. Sending vibes of happiness into anyone who walked through that door. It had been converted from a liquor shop a little over two years ago. Be mindful, of the broken shards of glass still embedded into the ground around it. Although, I highly doubt most people have the willpower to focus on anything apart from the deliciousness that consumed the place.

It was a slow day so Mrs. Deborah Kelly was likely the only one on the floor. You knew because her uniform was significantly outdated compared to that of her own employees.

When you walked in, the first thing that one might see is the bread. Lined up in rows according to their shape and size, behind the glass they looked appetizing. If you asked, they'll tell you that it's all locally grown or bought. On the other end, just below the register were sweet buns, cinnamon rolls, and cookies of all shapes and sizes. In the back, is where they kept the ice cream machine and the cakes. A large portion of which Mrs. Kelly made by hand. Or had delivered to the store depending on the request of her customers. When summer rolled, in the girls would come a lot earlier in the day and leave late in the evening. In there eyes, there was no shame in spending precious time around baked goods and freshly picked fruits of the season.

The door jingled and the owner turned around. Hey, girls!" Mrs Kelly said. She was probably the most energetic woman either of them had ever met before and had a smile as warm as her goods.

She was also one of few adults who actually preferred for younger people to call her by her first name. You wouldn't consider her a traditional woman but to each is their own. Before she started her own business, the town knew her as the lady who baked chocolate chip cookies every Saturday morning. A lot of the townsfolk wanted to actually pay for them but her generous heart thought it best to give them out for free. In the harsh winters, she'd bake bread for the homeless and helped raise thousands of dollars for the local orphanage. It was safe to say her kind heart made a massive impact on the community and was paying off in ways she never imagined possible.

"Hey, Debby. How has your day been?" Taylor asked walking over to the register. Debby wiped left over icing off her arm with a towel and grabbed her notebook from the back.

"Pretty relaxed. I might even have time to take old man John up on his offer for dinner," she said laughing.

Mr. Smith commonly known as Old man John was Mrs. Debby's longtime husband. Sometimes he'd come in the shop and talk to his wife all day as if he hadn't a clue as to if he'd ever see her again. It gave the girls hope watching a relationship still blossom after all those years they'd been together.

Taylor let out a longing sigh. "I really wish I had that. All the guys at our school are either perverts or ego maniacs. There really isn't anything in between."

Sadly enough she was telling the truth. If you were unlucky enough to walk into Willows Peak High School, this is it what you were likely to find: The first group, one would probably notice is the jocks. They were all fairly attractive, with similar tall and muscular builds. An aura of confidence radiated off them everywhere they went. And wherever they went, girls followed. Sifting in and out of the group as if they were taking turns to accompany them. All of which, were undeniably pretty and more than half of them were loyal supporters. Which brings me to the second group: The cheerleaders. They all pretty much stuck together and if you ever were looking for one in particular, your best bet would be to wait for lunch time to roll around. In the middle of the cafeteria, twenty seven girls sat like a row of dominoes. If you had just walked in, the sight of them would probably freak you out a little. Especially on game days. When they were sporting little tank tops and skirts too small for their bodies. Of course, no one seemed to mind. In short, it looked like someone rounded up a bunch of Barbie dolls and forced them to get an education.