“I hope you know why you’re here today. Why don’t I start while we’re waiting on someone?”

Kibum listened intently to the manager, absorbing every single detail that was discussed. He set his hand on the edge of the table and rolled his fingers up and down in anticipation. Being ordered into this cramped room held a similar feeling to when a child was called down to the principal’s office, or when someone was shoved onto a stage against their will. It was sort of a nervous fear.

However, after minutes of endless instructing and talking there was not any fear present; Kibum actually found himself calloused to the other’s words. A calmer sense of relaxation set inside him, so he decided to maintain composure and continue showing response to the manager through nodding. In reality, he was growing annoyed and distracted at the simplest details. Kibum even noticed the way his boss fidgeted with his pencil while explaining, twirling and bouncing it on the table.

Sunlight flooded in from the nearby window and beamed across the table, so that brightness flashed off of the metal band on the pencil. The employee was enthralled by the shiny light and used it to take more attention from some of the boss’ redundant words, but he just kept droning on. Kibum heard something about customer satisfaction, something about teamwork, and something about meeting “proper bakery” standards. It was all too repetitive and irritating.

His misery finally ended at the sound of a knock on the door. The boss looked up. “You can come in,” he called out to the visitor. Following the response, the door then opened and revealed a tiredly dressed Minho. His normally ruffled hair was sticking in odd directions and his clothes were wrinkled and out of place. Kibum uncomfortably shifted in his seat at the entrance, and he aimed his eyes back at the table.

Minho examined the people in the room with an air of displeasure. Heaving with sighs, he took a few steps forward and sat down with the two. "Can I ask why you called us here?" Minho questioned the manager. He also snuck another look at Kibum, who remained with a blank expression on his face.

The manager glanced at Kibum for a few seconds, then turned his attention back to Minho. "Did you not tell him anything at all?" he directed at Kibum.

"No, not really. I must've forgotten to..." the man sheepishly trailed off.

 "Ah, whatever," the manager cut him off. "Let's just get right to the point, since you’re both here.”

“Sure,” Minho replied.

“Your cooking as of now, sort of stinks," he bluntly stated.

"What?" Minho said out of surprise, expecting a different sort of news instead.

"It's bad. Especially the cakes."

"But I thought they were good," Minho silently muttered.

"Your sense of taste must be bland then, which is exactly why our customers have been reporting these terrible creations of yours. Anyways, I want you chefs to create me something new and trendy. The new dessert that will blow everyone's minds away!" the manager described, eyes sparkling with aspirations.

"Then…” Minho trailed off, trying to organize his thoughts. “How about we make those M&M cookies?" he suggested. The manager merely huffed and shook his head in response.

“Red velvet cake?”

“We already have that and it’s been doing fine.”

"Lemon bars?" Pinching the bridge of his nose, the boss sighed again and repeated a 'no.' At this point, Minho began to grow desperate and started listing desserts that have passed their time.

"Or we could make sugar cookies with sprinkles on top -"

"How about you guys think of something on your own," the manager interjected, not prepared to listen to countless suggestions. He glanced at his watch. "I have another meeting to attend to at the other bakery, so just find a recipe for something that you can make well for sure, then come and show me. We can't let our profits fall like this," he urged. The man stood up, two pairs of eyes following him. Grabbing his briefcase, he hulled open the door and strolled out. There was an even more suffocating atmosphere left behind.

Since the manager had left, the conference room was enveloped in deafening silence. Kibum sat in his seat examining his nails while Minho pulled out a scrap of paper, cataloging every pastry he knew to mankind. "How should we do this?" he wondered out loud.

Kibum discreetly glanced over at the paper Minho was writing on. He scanned the list, noting that every dessert Minho written down had already failed or turned out to be the least of favorites. He read on. Of all the sweets Minho could list, he could only think of ones that almost got us fired? Kibum annoyingly whipped his head back into the opposite direction before Minho noticed that he was looking.

Minho was still busying himself, remembering all the creations they made.  The list grew larger and larger, but the little pot of ideas began dwindling down. The man felt lost. He wanted to make his boss proud, but he wouldn't be able to if Kibum wouldn't help. He shot a glance at his partner. Won’t he say anything? he thought to himself.

The other sat in silence, eyes closed, thinking of nothing in particular to help them out. In fact, he was actually more compelled to relax and let the ideas come to him. But then his boss’ words echoed in his mind, ‘We can’t let our profits fall like this,’ and Kibum’s eyes snapped open in realization. If the profits were to completely fail, they would have to lay employees off. By logic, he was an employee, and he did not plan on getting laid off. He had to think of something new.

Tapping his chin, Kibum thought of the homemade goods his grandma would always bake for him. Or actually, any dessert he had ever encountered in his entire life. For example, he recalled the time he ate buttery croissants. Imagining, the man remembered the way the flakes would stick to his lips and melt in his mouth.

Then, his memories jumped to the fancy macaroons his auntie made for his birthday. The way he felt the cookie crackle when he bit into it, and the gooey feeling of mango flavored ganache rolling on his tongue. They were bliss.

His mind floated forward in search of an even larger success food. And so, the idea of the macaroons with their fillings lead him to think of… cream puffs. The way that someone could bite into a puff and the cream would ooze out to fill their mouth with flavor. No one would forget that taste.

A taste you would never forget. Cream puffs. The new, trendy dessert that would blow everyone’s minds away.

“That’s it! I know what to bake!” Kibum exclaimed. Minho peered up at him, and confusingly moved his seat back; he had been left out of the other’s thinking process completely.

“Okay... So what’s your big idea?”

“Cream puffs,” he answered with pride. 

“Seriously? All you can think of is cream puffs?” The older shot him an annoyed look.

“I am serious. They’re cream puffs. Who could hate such a lovable food? We can make them special too. Just top them off with chocolate or powdered sugar and people will surely fall in love with them.”

Minho shrugged, thinking of the possibilities they had with Kibum’s idea. It didn’t have a large number of prospects, but they could make do. However, he still felt unsure. There was always that small chance this big concept could ruin the entire existence of improving, but what plan was better? Besides, his own creativity in desserts was clearly limited to a tiny bubble.

~~~

After the work day terminated, Kibum made a direct path for the door. Although he felt a bit more confident with his planned dessert, there was a reasonable amount of stress that constricted him throughout the day. He felt that he needed to relax. Working a shift and accumulating knowledge for the perfect cream puff was quite draining enough. And along with that, he just felt that the stress had transgressed into an aching pain all over his body.

Kibum decided to keep his head down as his feet pattered along the sidewalk. The streets seemed to carry the same stress as he did somehow; it was not somber or depressing, b