The smell of warm bread.

A baker started work at dawn every morning.

One day, a young woman entered the shop, carrying a little boy.

"Please, we only have money for one croissant today," she said timidly.

The baker nodded, then smiled and pulled a fresh loaf of bread from the oven.

"The croissant will run out, but the smell of the bread will follow you home," he said, pressing it into the woman's hand.

Years passed.

One day, a car pulled up in front of the shop, and the baker smelled a familiar scent—her flowers and her tears.

It was the woman, now with her grown son.

The boy put a package on the counter: inside was a new white apron.

"My mother left this for me. She said that whoever gave us bread once deserves a new beginning.