The bread that came out of the oven was blue, as usual. “Good,” the old baker said, nodding once. She exhaled in relief. “So I did it right?” “As right as it needs to be.” That wasn’t comforting. Nothing about this place was. She had come here to learn. To master the craft. That’s what she had told herself when she accepted the apprenticeship. But this wasn’t baking. Not really. The recipes were incomplete. The instructions vague. The measurements inconsistent. And yet, the results were always the same. Perfect. Predictable. Blue. “Why is it that color?” she asked, for what felt like the hundredth time. The old baker wiped his hands slowly, considering her. “You’ll understand when it matters,” he said. That answer never changed either. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into something longer. The outside world felt distant now. Faded. She tried to remember why she had come here in the first place. She couldn’t. That scared her more than anything else. That night, she packed her things in silence. The old baker didn’t stop her. Didn’t even look up as she walked past. “You won’t find better instruction,” he said calmly. “I’m not looking for better,” she replied. “Just… normal.” He smiled faintly. “That’s the first thing you lose.” She didn’t respond. The road felt unfamiliar under her feet, as though she hadn’t walked it in years. The bus arrived exactly when she needed it to. As she climbed aboard, she noticed the faint blue tint on her fingertips. She wiped them quickly against her coat. She waved as the bus pulled away, relieved she would never need to explain any of this.