A bakery is known to be the house of breads of every kind, lining up from left to right. Bringing the atmosphere that lulls you to stay for the rest of your lives. And in the middle of it, an oddly loud couple stands.
"Oh. A Kwossan." A woman with blue long hair read with a frown, thinking how can a small bread be stupidly quite expensive.
"It's a Krosan." The man, although confused tried to correct her, causing the both of them to stare at each other.
"..."
"..."
They both shrugs, walking away with a bag of flour on hand.
