Prompt: Annette Haricot
The bakery on Lindt Street was known the whole county over. The building that housed DreamCakes Bakery - as well as a tea house with heavy drapes made from oriental flavored fabrics with a name not even its owners could pronounce, a small laundermat, and the studio of a basically unknown artist who sold dully colored stained glass windows – was small and unremarkable; a brown brick structure that rose awkwardly up from the sidewalk at a crooked angle. It hung over the street, as if the tenant rooms on the top floor were particularly heavy. It was nothing if not unimpressive.
But DreamCakes was not known for its location or building, which were anything but noteworthy. Even the indoor decorations were not notable – charming in a homely antique way, but not remarkable. The bakery only had two outstanding characteristics, but together they made it more famous than any of its individual aspects warranted.
DreamCakes always smelled wonderful – a scent beyond baked goods and savory pastries. It always smelt of happiness. That scent might have been baked into DreamCakes products, but it always seemed more likely that it was an integral part of the owner. Annette Haricot was a short woman, tiny and sprite-like, with corkscrew curls the color of melted chocolate. She never forgot a face and she met every new customer with a bright smile that shone bright in her coffee-colored eyes.
Within the crooked little building, among the antique furnishing, in her patterned aprons, Annette sparkled like a jewel, enhancing the intoxicating scent of the bakery’s goods. Once a person had been inside DreamCakes and chatted a moment with the vibrant owner, it was easy to see why the tiny bakery had become so famous.