Stress page 1147

Room 1147 of the estate

Baking was my father's one true gift. He once made a loaf so light that it got away. It rose over the barn and drifted toward Hamelin. We chased it on horseback for a week with butter knives. A passing crow got the crust, and we got the blame.

The stress hall, room 1148, and room 2294.