The croissants were cooling on the rack when you finally acted on the impulse. Pulling a scrap of parchment from the drawer—ironically, the same kind you used for wrapping bread—you scrawled a quick message in looping script: 'Help Wanted. Apply Within.' You hesitated for only a second before tacking it to the front door, the paper fluttering slightly in the damp breeze.

Rain had settled into a steady drizzle outside, turning the sidewalk into a patchwork of dark puddles. You watched through the window as a few pedestrians paused to read the note, their umbrellas bobbing like colorful mushrooms. None came in. The morning rush came and went, the usual regulars chatting idly about the weather while you mechanically filled orders, your attention divided between the counter and the door.

It wasn’t until the lunch lull that the bell jingled again. The woman from earlier stepped inside, her coat damp at the shoulders, the edges of her sleeves darkened by rain. She blinked at you, then at the note still pinned to the door behind her. 'You’re... hiring?' she asked, her voice tentative, as if she half-expected you to rescind the offer on the spot. Up close, you noticed the faint shadows under her eyes, the way her fingers worried at a loose thread on her cuff. The resume she pulled from her pocket was slightly wrinkled now, the corners softened by moisture.