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English: When Mara rented the apartment above Bell & Rye Bakery, she imagined mornings filled with the smell of bread. She was right about the smell. At six each morning, warm air rose through the old building carrying cinnamon, coffee, toasted sesame, and the deep, comforting scent of fresh loaves. What the advertisement had not mentioned was the metal tray cart. At 4:47 every morning, someone rolled it across the bakery floor beneath Mara’s bedroom. The wheels struck three uneven tiles in quick succession. Clang. Clang. Clang. Then came the...
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