I was standing behind a counter that went across an old, rustic-styled room. I looked into rows of glass containers, all containing different pastries, breads, cakes, and even more. The building was a bakery. [b My] bakery, to be exact. I've owned it for a couple years, and have gotten quite a good amount of sales. People have always seemed to have a certain fondness for my baking expertise, which warms my heart. Breaking myself away from my mind, I glanced around. There hadn't been any customers in a while, and I was really hoping to make a good sale today as my ears twitched in anticipation for someone to enter.