The Baker's Ear

I didn’t think it would mean much, sitting there listening to him describe baking bread. I had a few minutes before my bus. He didn’t seem to mind the time – he did everything the slow way. Kneading the dough, as he explained how he grows the sourdough cultures from scratch – something I’ve come to recognise as being a tricky little endeavour.

He said the answer is patience. I’m not so sure. That’s probably what all green-thumbs say too. Some people just have a knack for stuff the rest of us suffer through. But, the smell of fresh bread makes one feel at home, no matter how unusual the company.

‘Do you like this city?’ His voice, rhythmic, had lulled me into comfort. I almost missed the question.

‘It’s been okay. The amount of people just gets to me sometimes.’

‘People can be loud. And messy. Kind of like baking this bread. Were you around a lot of people where you’re from?’ Was he really trying to get to know me in the few minutes before I left? What was the point?

The Baker, deceptively perceptive, just continued. ‘I know we don’t have much time. But we have some. Do you want to make it count?’

‘Can it really? I’m a stranger who probably won’t find my way back to your bakery ever again. This city is huge and I don’t even live here.’

‘Well, what makes time count for you?’

I had to think about it a little. Can’t say that I ever have. ‘I don’t know. I guess it counts when I’m doing something productive…’

‘And this conversation doesn’t feel productive?’

Well, how do I respond to that? Maybe I could give him a taste of his own medicine… ‘Well, what makes a conversation productive to you?’ I let the smug colour my face.

‘Conversations are only as productive as our hearts and ears allow.’ His eyes laughed at me as he spoke.

‘What do you mean by that? Don’t tell me you bake fortune cookies too?’

‘I do, in fact. But that’s not the point. Conversations ask something of us. They ask us to listen well. There’s always more behind the words we use.’

‘I don’t think I agree. Why can’t we just take the words as is and not have to filter them – which, by the way, we can be so wrong about?’

‘You’re not listening for ulterior motives or dual meanings in the words. Misinterpretation becomes an occupational hazard. You’re listening to their heart… How often have you said one thing but meant another?’

‘Don’t we all do that?’

‘Most. But some have learned to be more honest. With themselves and others. But, for those who are still learning, we can help them hear their hearts.’

‘Where did this “we” come from? What makes you think I can do that?’

‘Because you are already doing it. While you’ve been listening to me, other customers came and went, but you stayed. Listening well is a craft. You’ve got it. Hone it. Learn to hear their hearts.

Now, if I’m not mistaken, you’ve got a bus to catch.’

This short story's prompt was the word 'Craft' and had a 500 word count limit.