Willa Lupus

Two cakes rest on a table in a modest home. One is untouched with hardened icing and a wilted cherry. The other is missing a thin slice, revealing a yellow inside that is slowly turning stale. Corann paces about the room, opening and closing shelves, alternating between walking towards the table and hurriedly walking away. He tries to keep himself busy, but his breath hitches every time he catches sight of the cakes. Memories of a kind baker and cheerful drinker...