Today, I am at my shop. My friend Nina and I own bakery in Williamsburg. We sell all kinds of pastries like fruit pies, cakes, breads, and tarts. Every day, so many different people come in our shop and purchase our goods. Nina works the money, while I make everything that we sell in the kitchen. Our shop is a small one, filled to the brim with baked goods. It’s always warm, because the oven heats the small space. Our bakery is known for its delicious pastries, but we also make our own root beer, and ginger ale. The room always smells delicious because of this. We recently acquired a young apprentice, who works with us every day, and we teach her what to do. This morning, an old woman came in, and asked the new apprentice how much a small cake was. The apprentice, not knowing what she was doing, answered

“One dollar,” and didn’t think to check what the actual price was. As the woman was walking out, I asked if she had paid already, and she said,

“Yes the young lady over there told me it was one dollar.” I let the woman leave with her cake, and then proceeded to yell at the apprentice.

“Please don’t charge one dollar when something’s 4 dollars!”

I fired the apprentice at once, and got back to business. After that, business was small, because the whole town had heard about what happened.

At around dinner time. I walked into the kitchen, and fixed myself some bread. Because I am middle class, and not gentry, I don’t have very much food at dinner. That’s okay though because if we have extra pastries that don’t get sold by the end of the day, I eat some of them. Nina stays late at the bakery to close up the shop and clean, but I leave right before supper so I can enjoy the meal with my family. Nina calls me “lazy” because of this, but I just want to enjoy a meal with my family! She wouldn’t get it though because she doesn’t have kids. She suffered a miscarriage a couple months ago.

One night, as I was about to start heading home, I sat down, and looked out the window at the children playing games in the field. I thought about my children at home. Two girls and one boy. My son was diagnosed with typhoid fever. The apothecary thinks that he drank some bad water. Every day when I get home he’s in bed, not getting any better, and all I can hope is that he will live. I still have to work, to make money for my family, but it’s hard because I have to care for him too. He’s my only son, and I love him very much.