Blueberry scones were chomped on furiously. I observed my friend, Lisa, finishing her order quickly, noting down that blueberry scones were definitely good. Then again, did they really count, especially from a friend? Most of the seats and tables were dusty, and many plates of various treats I created remained in my storage. 

	She reached for another one and exclaimed about how delicious they were again, needing to emphasize the importance of them. She could make anyone feel important, no matter how insecure they were. 

	I sighed as I sat down dejectedly, my posture more slumped than ever. My friend, Lisa, looked confused. “Max, why does it look like there’s a storm cloud above your head?” She knew my posture was usually straighter, like a ruler.

	“It’s just…I’ve been in this business for 5 months, Lisa. And I still haven’t gotten any orders. Barely any compensation, and my debt is starting to rise more and more.” I fiddled with the salt and pepper shakers. “Maybe Mama was right. Maybe I should’ve gotten a better job.” 

	“Hey, don’t say that!” Lisa refuted. “You’ve worked really hard, and your reward will come soon, I’m sure of it. You just need to wait a little longer. You’ll find your way! I know it!” 

	“I’m not so sure of that,” I mumbled, taking a blueberry scone from her plate and gobbling it down aggressively. “You, a few old people, and some of my other friends are the only ones who come here. Sure, I get paid, but not much. It’s why I’ve even had to lay people off.”

	“Tulip…” Lisa got interrupted by a call. It rang like a pestering buzz of a bee. It was her boss. “I’m sorry, I gotta go. My break’s over. I wish I could stay longer, but I wish you luck with your business! We can talk later, I swear.”

	I nodded solemnly and thought harder than Albert Einstein to find a solution for my problems. I was stuck however, like when my cakes got stuck to the bottom of the pan as a beginner. Those were unpleasant experiences. 

	I walked out, giving in to taking a break from my brainstorming. I glanced near a window and gazed at butterflies that looked like they were decorated cookies with periwinkle icing and a few white chocolate chips as spots. Which they were. I backed up a little to gaze at the title of the store, and it read, “Be Bakery.”

	I strolled into the shop, many thoughts filling my head. This bakery is nearby mine. There were many people and no dusty seats. The lights were brighter than the ones in fireflies, and the decor was like a rainbow cake. And then I saw on the board for the menu: blueberry scones. They were the most popular choice. 

	I immediately went up to the counter, asking, “May I have a batch of blueberry scones? 2, please.”

	The person at the counter smiled, saying, “Yes, of course! That will be 4 dollars.”

	Four dollars? I charge mine for $3 each.
	
	I paid for the scones and munched on them immediately.

	I took in the scone and its flavors. It was truly delectable and took me to the land of blueberries. I never compare myself to other businesses, but this was phenomenal. Way better than my blueberry scones. My overpriced, rejected scones. 

	I went back outside and noticed something different. Signs were being posted on another business across the street. I realized, however, they were promoting a different business–their own business. The store they were putting the ads on was a tea store, and the ads, though blurry, were still visible from my end. 

	I could make other scones and charge them for less. I could advertise in front of this bakery. 

	Until dawn came, I was like an owl. I created different posters, made ideas for scones, and started experimenting with different scones. I opened up the shop.

	More and more people came as I posted more on social media as well. My seats were getting filled up quicker and quicker. I had more people to serve, and though I hired others, it still wasn’t enough. Sometimes there are too many customers.

	I served and ran quickly to meet everyone’s orders. However, as more weeks passed by, orders were messed up a few times. It was okay, but it hadn’t really ever happened before.

	But one day, when I checked on my Google Maps page, I looked at my store’s ratings. They caused my jaw to drop a little.

	They became 2 stars. How had they dropped in a matter of days from 5 stars to 2? 

	More customers complained like annoying buzzes of bees, again. They were like butterflies, lingering around the flowers to come back for more and more of the nectar. Now, they were starting to leave. 

	“This scone is too dry!”
	“You didn’t get me the right order!”

	My hands were shaking a little more as I thought about the wrongness of my ways. My mother was right. I’m as helpless as a child, and as helpless as I was as a kid for my mom. It was like the time I could barely assemble a gingerbread house. It kept falling and falling apart.  But while I was mixing another batch of scones, the bowl spilled. My eyes widened as I panicked to clean it up. I furiously grabbed a towel and scrubbed.

	Just as I was about to break down into tears by how failed my bakery was, Lisa came by and knew what had happened: I took more of a load than I could handle. I wanted more and got it, but at what cost? 

	“Your business is falling apart, like a crumble cake,” Lisa noted. “Maybe…try remembering why you started this business in the first place.”

	My brain searched for a memory of what got me into this business in the first place: my mother. 

	“You’re going to want to put the sugar in here. Yep, that’s enough, Tulip!” 
	
	We stirred and stirred the mixture, making it spin like a merry-go-round. We laid out the mixture, the soft, succulent mixture, onto the counter and chopped them into watermelon-like wedges. After brushing buttermilk on the dough, freezing the wedges for 15 minutes, and finally baking them in the oven, we were finished. 

	“Look at that beautiful crunch!” my mother stated as we chomped down on them. 

	I agreed, nodding my head. I enjoyed the satisfactory taste of the blueberries. They were just the right amount of sweet. 

	The sun was rising more, and it was now time for my mother to go to work at the bakery. Little did we know it would be the last day. 

	Mother came home in tears. They came down from her eyes like icing, pouring down and down. “Never get into the bakery business. Never, son!” she yelled aggressively. I tried hugging her, but she pushed away and told me, “Go to your room, please.”

	I obeyed reluctantly. Mother and I never baked again.

	My eyes were a little tearful, and it felt like my heart deflated like a souffle I had created. I wanted to avenge my mother, but instead, I might have made the same mistakes she did. All because I was blinded by another’s treats. I was like a caterpillar, and I hadn’t earned my wings yet for good reasons. However, I could change that.

	“I think…I’m going to bake for fun now. Before, I was doing it like it was a heavy workload. I might also close earlier to help myself,” I said, more to myself than Lisa. 

	And so I did. I learned to take my time and enjoy the process. I spent more time on the small details of the treats. Customer ratings went up higher than the speed of light. I gradually enjoyed baking again instead of focusing on the competition, and just because of that, I became famous. 

	“See? I told you to wait for it!” Lisa winked.

	I smiled as I shooed her away from the camera. “Now, on News TV 10, we have our metamorphosed baker, Tulip Phyllers!” 

	“What would you like to tell us about your journey?” 

	And I told. Indeed I did.



Written by Kruti Patel