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The Sentence on the Glass
Lena stood on the wet sidewalk with a cloth in one hand and a marker in the other. The bakery behind her was warm. The glass in front of her was clean, and it was also useless. A bus stopped across the street. People got off and walked toward the station. Almost nobody turned to look at her shop.
She wanted one of them to come in. Not everyone on the bus. One person who lived on another street and did not already buy the same loaf every Friday.
The words on the glass said Fresh Bread Daily. They were true, and any bakery on this road could say the same thing. Lena had copied the line from a notebook beside the counter. None of the plans in that notebook could be read from a bus seat.