The customer peered at the pastries. Thirteen perfect, golden crescent rolls. And the fourteenth… was a tiny, warm, living sparrow, sleeping on a bed of thyme.
Amy tucked a wisp of flour-dusted hair behind her ear. “A regular dozen is twelve,” she said, sliding a tray across the counter. “A baker’s dozen is thirteen. But a longdozen ?” She smiled. “That’s mine.”
The Long Dozen of Amy’s Arcane Bakery
The customer peered at the pastries. Thirteen perfect, golden crescent rolls. And the fourteenth… was a tiny, warm, living sparrow, sleeping on a bed of thyme.
Amy tucked a wisp of flour-dusted hair behind her ear. “A regular dozen is twelve,” she said, sliding a tray across the counter. “A baker’s dozen is thirteen. But a longdozen ?” She smiled. “That’s mine.”
The Long Dozen of Amy’s Arcane Bakery