Colby smiled shyly as the baker continued staring at her. After five minutes, though, his right eye began to twitch, so he had no choice but to say something. “So, you mean the smell is so putrid, that it’s become unavoidable?”
“No. No, I mean I literally can’t smell anything else. You see, when I was a baby, my brother hated the sight of me, so one day, he threw a sewer rat on my face.” Colby stopped to sigh. “It permanently damaged my olfactory senses. And now, the only things I can smell are sewers and their rats. True story.”
The baker, however, took his time answering. “That is…interesting. What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. But, my name is Colby. And you?”
“I am The. The Baker.”
“Is that your name?” she asked, with honest intrigue. “How curious.”
The Baker winced. “My parents named my siblings and I for the professions they wished us to pursue. My sister, for instance, is The Mortician. I’d hate to be her.”
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Colby muttered.