"A Small Good Thing"

In the heart of the city, nestled between the towering skyscrapers and bustling streets, was a small bakery. It was a modest establishment, with a simple sign reading "Scotty's Bakery" hanging above the entrance. But to those who knew it, it was much more than just a place to buy bread and pastries.

For Scotty, the owner and baker of the shop, baking was more than just a job. It was his passion, his art, and his way of connecting with the world. Every morning, he would wake up before dawn to start baking, mixing flour and yeast and water together in the perfect proportions, creating doughs that would rise and puff up into golden loaves and flaky croissants.

And every day, his customers would flock to his shop, drawn by the aroma of freshly baked bread and the warm smile that always greeted them. They came for the bread, of course, but they also came for the sense of community that Scotty had built around his shop. It was a place where people could gather, chat, and share a small moment of joy over a warm slice of bread.

One day, a couple came into the bakery. They were young and clearly anxious, their faces drawn and pale. They asked for a cake, a special one, for their son's birthday. Scotty, always eager to please his customers, promised to bake them the best cake they had ever tasted.

But as the day went on, the couple never returned to pick up the cake. Scotty didn't think much of it at first – perhaps they had changed their minds – but as the hours ticked by, he began to worry. What if something had happened to their son? What if they were in trouble and needed help?

Unable to shake the feeling of unease, Scotty decided to take matters into his own hands. He closed up shop early, locked the door, and set out to find the couple.

He didn't know where they lived, but he had a hunch. They had mentioned the name of their apartment complex when they first came in, and he remembered it because it was just a few blocks away from his shop. So he walked, his heart pounding with each step, until he found the building.

He buzzed the couple's apartment, but there was no answer. He knocked on the door, but still no one came. He was just about to give up and head back to his shop when he heard a faint sound coming from inside the apartment – a sound like someone crying.

Without hesitating, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. The apartment was small and cluttered, with boxes and furniture piled up in every corner. In the living room, he found the couple huddled together on the couch, tears streaming down their faces.

Their son, it turned out, had been hit by a car that morning on his way to school. He was in critical condition at the hospital, and the couple didn't know what to do. They had spent the day at the hospital, waiting and worrying, unable to think about anything else.

Scotty didn't know what to say. He felt a deep sadness for the couple, and an overwhelming urge to help them in any way he could. He sat down next to them on the couch and listened as they poured out their fears and anxieties.

And then he did something small, but so incredibly good. He reached into his bag and pulled out a fresh loaf of bread, still warm from the oven. He broke off a piece and handed it to the couple.

"Here," he said. "Eat. You must be hungry."

The couple hesitated at first, but then they took the bread and ate it, slowly and gratefully. It was the first real food.