Years ago, Theophania traded her humanity away for unlimited time alive, but unwittingly she had exchanged the limit of death for the limit of each day. In the early decades, she would often be caught unawares by the sunrise, drowsy and almost asleep before she realized what was wrong. Now she was seldom surprised. Unfortunately, that did not give her more time to get baking done, so she snuck in dough making and batch baking between customers.

As such, the soft ring of the bell made her sigh. Her hands were coated in sticky pastry dough, the front of her apron dusted in flour and fine sugar.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” she called, folding the half-finished dough back into a bowl and covering it with a towel. She washed her hands and wiped them dry as she headed for the front. “Welcome to Sweet Tooth.”

A witch.

Most witches couldn’t tell her from the next pale millennial, so she kept her customer service smile mostly in place, only the sparkle of curiosity betraying her.