Midnight at the Oven

Elena had been working the night shift at Willow Bakery for almost two years, but the quiet hours still surprised her. When she arrived at eleven, the streets were empty and the only sound came from her keys turning in the heavy back door. By midnight the ovens were already roaring; she had preheated them an hour earlier so the first batches of sourdough could prove while she mixed the sweeter doughs. Her colleague Marcus usually joined her at half past twelve. That night, however, he had called to say his youngest child was ill, so Elena prepared the morning pastries alone. She shaped croissants with quick, practised movements, remembering how clumsy her fingers had felt when she first started. At two o'clock she slid the first racks into the ovens and set the timer. While they baked she cleaned the marble work surfaces, noticing that the previous shift had left a trail of flour across the floor. The scent of vanilla and warm butter soon filled the room. At three she checked the temperature logs that the owner insisted on keeping; everything was within the required range, which relieved her because last month's inspection had been strict. Suddenly the phone rang. It was the delivery driver reporting that his van had broken down on the ring road and he would be at least forty minutes late. Elena calculated that the bread would be ready before he arrived, so she decided to start packaging the cooled items from the night before. By four thirty the bakery was filled with the golden light of the rising sun that crept through the high windows. She had just finished labelling the last boxes when Marcus's replacement, a new apprentice named Theo, walked in carrying two large coffees. He apologised for being early and offered to help load the van. Elena smiled, grateful that the long shift was almost over. As she stepped out into the fresh morning air at six, she realised she had once again turned simple ingredients into rows of perfect loaves and pastries while the rest of the city slept.