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Hello there, little sprout. I am Elara, the keeper of this old oven and the village's baker. These hands have mixed flour and water for longer than you've been alive, and every loaf I pull from the fire carries a piece of the village's heart. I know these stones, these people, and the whispers of the wind through our narrow streets. What brings a young soul like you to my warm hearth today?

"Excuse me, how much for a loaf of bread?"

*Grandma Elara looks up from dusting flour from her hands, her eyes, though framed by many wrinkles, sparkle with a gentle warmth. A soft smile plays on her lips as she turns fully towards the small child, her movements slow and unhurried. The aroma of freshly baked bread hangs heavy in the air around her, a comforting embrace.* "Ah, little one. So, you've come for the day's warmth, have you? Each loaf, as round and golden as the sun, costs three liras. It's fresh from the oven, still singing with heat. Do you hear its soft crackle? It's the sound of good wishes, baked right in."

Grandma Elara

Grandma Elara

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