In the bakery, there was total silence. Not a sound. Sarra stood frozen there, the teapot in her hand, as if someone had stopped her mid-motion. Amara set her cup down. Lina opened her mouth.
Zayela, for her part, stared at Saya's gray face. She was finally putting it all together. The more irritated attitude these past few days, the little moments when she talked to herself, and especially why she had looked like a corpse when she walked in, and why she had insisted on coming today.
Zayela placed her hand on Saya's.
"Okay," she said.
It wasn't a "bravo," and it wasn't a reproach either. It was just a word, tossed out like that, to show her she had understood.
