TRAVIS MOORE Behind the bakeshop stood the pastry lady's house—a small but cozy space. It wasn’t fancy, just a few appliances, but it was neat and had a warm feel. Furthermore, the white walls and wooden decor created a welcoming atmosphere."You have a nice place," I complimented, glancing around the living room."Thank you. Please, have a seat," she offered, lighting a scented candle near some picture frames."Do you live here alone?"Even though she had her back to me, I could still see how she froze before she answered yes. It took her a few seconds to move again, flipping the picture frame face down.From the quick glimpse I caught, it seemed to be a family photo. I couldn't see their faces clearly because of the distance and she was blocking it.It felt… odd. Like she didn’t want me to see it. Or maybe I was just overthinking. Perhaps she only moved it to keep it away from the candle."Anyway, do you like a drink?" she asked, blowing the match.For a moment, I forgot to breath
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