The Hole Under the Sprinkles — Every morning before the bell carts rattled, Tessa slid bread rolls into paper sleeves and counted cookies on the cooling racks. Read the full story →
Every morning before the bell carts rattled, Tessa slid bread rolls into paper sleeves and counted cookies on the cooling racks. She wanted the first solo delivery tag, but the bakery quarter was a maze of steam vents, awnings, and shouting pigeons, so Master Ollo always sent her with someone older.
Until one windy morning, the market bridge clanged shut for repairs, trapping a giant festival donut on the wrong side of town. Because of that, Tessa had to carry the tray through the back lanes before the frosting sagged. Because of that, a gust flipped the delivery tag into the donut hole, where her fingers brushed a folded square hidden under a ring of sprinkles.
“Secret tunnel?” Tessa whispered, tasting sugar on the air and courage in her throat. The note showed a flour-dusted passage beneath the oven rooms. She ducked in, followed the warm yeasty smell, and burst out beside the festival table just as the clock boomed noon. Next time you spot that plain round hole, dare yourself to wonder what else could be tucked under the sprinkles.
