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The Night Bakery – Part 2: The First Loaf

Workplace·EN·2 min read·Published 2026-11-07, updated 2026-11-07·Part 2 of 2

By Friday, Greta could shape a Kipferl without looking, and Matthias had started saving her the crispest end of every baguette. The shop had a rhythm now: dough, oven, dawn.

On the last night of the week, the other baker called in sick, and the two of them worked the bakery alone. They did not talk much. They did not need to. When her hand reached for the scraper, his was already holding it out.

At five, the last tray came out and the shop lay silent and golden. Matthias wiped his hands on his apron and poured two coffees.

"Can I ask you something?" said Greta.

"Yes."

"Why did you let me stay? On Monday, I mean. Everyone says you send new bakers away."

"Because you argued with the bread," said Matthias. "Nobody argues with the bread. They are afraid."

"I was a little afraid."

"You were brave," he said. "It is better."

She set down her coffee. Outside, the first pale light slid across the flour-dusted counter. Her pulse thumped in her throat.

"Can I kiss you?" said Greta. "Here, among the baguettes?"

"Yes," said Matthias, very quietly. "And if you say stop, you must clean the proofing racks."

"That is a cruel punishment," said Greta, and rose on her toes.

She kissed him softly, a hand against his floury chest, his arm curling carefully round her waist. He tasted of coffee and warm bread. The kiss was gentle and unhurried, and somewhere behind them the oven ticked as it cooled, and the street outside began to wake.

When they parted, both of them were smiling.

"Green?" he asked.

"Green," said Greta. "Very green."

"Then I will see you Monday," said Matthias.

"And Tuesday," said Greta. "And all the nights after."

He took off his cap, and put it on her head.

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