Chapter 3: Marguerite’s

Lulu hadn't power-walked anywhere in years, but today? Today was special.

Marguerite's was still open, and her taste buds were ready for the flaky, buttery perfection of an almond croissant.

Her stomach was even more excited, gurgling like a neglected pet finally seeing its owner come home.

As she turned the corner, there it was—the tiny French bakery in all its glory.

Warm golden light poured out from the windows, the smell of fresh bread and sugar drifted into the street, and the familiar little bell jingled as she pushed open the door.

"Lulu! Ma chére, I didn't think you'd be back so soon!" The cashier behind the counter, a lively woman with tight curls and a thick accent, beamed at her. She was Claudette, Marguerite's daughter, who managed most of the day-to-day operations of the bakery.

Lulu blinked. "Uh… yeah!" How long had it been since she was last here? Two years? But she recalled that she used to only come in on Mondays, as a treat to pick her up on the worst day of the week. Now, it was only Wednesday, 2 days since the past her would have last visited—but those 2 days had somehow become 2 years in the blink of an eye.

She stepped forward, ready to place her order, but something caught her attention.

An old man stood at the counter, his wrinkled hands gripping the edge like he was waiting to place his order. His posture agitated, confused, and growing in irritation at being repeatedly ignored.

She frowned. He had clearly been there before her, but the staff was still ignoring him.

That was odd. The French might have a reputation, but Marguerite and Claudette had never been anything less than welcoming.

Maybe they didn't see him? No way. The place wasn't that big.

"Uh, sorry, I think he was here first," Lulu pointed out, jerking a thumb at the man.

Claudette glanced to the side in puzzlement at Lulu's gesture, before looking back at her.

"Ah… Lulu, it is really not easy for you to wake up so early is it?" She joked, trying to lighten up the slightly stiff atmosphere. Clearly, she took Lulu's puzzling behaviour to be a by-product of a typical night-owl being awake beyond their usual hours.

Although as a bakery, they would be up from 5 to 6 am, they rarely ever saw Lulu awake before noon—likely because she was unemployed.

Lulu narrowed her eyes. Okay, something was definitely weird. Why was everyone acting like he wasn't there?

She hesitated, but her stomach won the argument. She'd deal with the strangeness after the croissant was secured.

"One almond croissant, please."

The cashier rang it up, moving with all the enthusiasm of a game show host. Still no acknowledgment of the old man.

Lulu turned to him. "What about you? What are you getting?"

The man blinked, looking genuinely surprised that she was talking to him. "Oh, um… just a small coffee and a blueberry muffin."

$3.50. Lulu did the mental math and sighed in relief. If it had been just a little more, she'd have to awkwardly explain to the man that she didn't have enough.

"Add that to mine," she said.

The cashier's smile froze. For a second, she just stared.

But then, with a forced nod, she rang it up. Lulu paid, grabbed the bag, and turned to the man. He was already heading outside.

'Maybe he felt uncomfortable in there…' Lulu thought, 'makes sense since Claudette was kind of rude to him.' She followed, stepping out into the crisp air after him.

The street was lively, people passing by with briefcases and their morning coffee as they rushed to their respective places of work.

She held out his coffee and muffin. "Here you go."

The man smiled warmly. "You're very kind, young lady."

He reached for the coffee.

And then—the cup fell straight through his hand.

It splashed onto the pavement with a loud splat, scalding-hot coffee splashing onto Lulu's ankle.

"Ah! Shit!" Lulu jumped back, hissing in pain.

She stared at the coffee puddle. Then at the old man.

Then back at the coffee.

Then back at his—slightly see-through now that she looked at it—hand.

The man looked down at the mess, then up at Lulu with an apologetic smile.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Lulu's brain completely short-circuited.

"…WHAT. THE. HELL."