soulmates and snowstorms (9)
Shion took Christmas off at the lab to work in the bakery.
In the morning before opening the shop, he did prepwork in the kitchen, but as soon as he opened the bakery, Shion stayed at the front, where customers were consistent, a long line soon winding out of the bakery.
Shion was glad to be kept busy. Was glad for the chatter of the customers, the constant rush, the line out the door and onto the street, the cocktail of smells from numerous baked goods wafting from the kitchen.
Because Shion was not going to the lab later, he wore just a t-shirt. He was still sweating by eight, just an hour after opening the bakery. He ran his hand through his hair, felt the sweat slick back his bangs. He smiled at another customer. He took another order.
He didn’t think about Nezumi.
He was not given the opportunity to think about Nezumi, not allowed the excuse, not until noon, when Shion handed a bag of cookies to a customer before facing the next.
It was not Nezumi, but Nezumi’s manager.