The bread that came out of the oven was blue, as usual. She logged the result without looking at it for too long. Observation changed things. That was the first rule. The second was consistency. Same ingredients. Same process. Same outcome. Every deviation had consequences. She had learned that the hard way. The first time she tried to adjust the recipe, the bread came out gray. The sky followed. She didn’t make that mistake again. Now she followed the routine exactly. Bake. Record. Repeat. The blue bread wasn’t a product. It was a condition. As long as it came out right, everything else stayed stable. Or at least, stable enough. She glanced at the window. The horizon wavered slightly, like heat rising off pavement. It had been doing that more often lately. She checked her notes again. No deviations. No errors. So why was it getting worse? Her chest tightened. Maybe the bread wasn’t enough anymore. Maybe it never had been. She looked back at the oven, at the steady glow within. Then at her hands. There were other variables she hadn’t tested. Variables she had been told not to consider. Her breath slowed. She made a decision. Then grabbed her bag instead. Some experiments weren’t worth running. Outside, the air felt unstable—but real. The bus was already there, waiting. She didn’t question it. She waved as the bus pulled away, relieved she would never need to explain any of this.