[SE] for a moment I forget to worry

A m a l i a Late afternoon of the festival, and the Amalia who has returned to her post is a far cry from the girl who first opened it. Smiling, the baker greets and gathers, warm welcomes offered to all passers by. Though not gone, never gone, the apprehension and anxiety which infuses her skin is faded, at least, returned to its normal post of watcher, a snake in the grass for now undisturbed. The stall itself feels more alive, vibrant and alight with flowers, banners, and bread, bustling and crawling with festival goers eager to collect pasties and cakes. By dusk they are nearly out of wares. Foot traffic has been plentiful, the initial apprehensive of the Naturals at last giving way to grudging acceptance of the youngest Chandrakant. So when business at last lulls to a brief stop it is a welcome respite, a chance for the girl to catch her breath. Amalia sighs happily, leaning heavily on her elbows, her leaf green dress characteristically covered in flour. She surveys her remaining stock: a collection of soft buns, sticky and sweet, alongside some cookies and one last loaf of hewa, decorated with a traditional sun. She ought to start packing, she knows, cleaning and sweeping and preparing to take down the stall. But for the moment she is content to stand, looking out into the vibrant festival and breathing in the warm spring air. Besides, there will be time tomorrow. Today is for pleasure, and happiness, and fun. She is messy, but she's kind She is lonely most of the time She is all of this mixed up and baked in a beautiful pie She is gone, but she used to be mine