Year 4 writing: The bakery before opening

The bakery was quiet before opening. Warm bread stood on metal trays behind the counter. A lamp shone over the till. Outside, the street was still dark.

Flour covered one corner of the table. The baker brushed it into a little pile. From the oven came a soft click. The smell of fresh loaves filled the small room as the clock moved towards seven.

Behind the dark window, a row of round loaves waited on a metal tray. Their brown crusts shone beneath the counter lamp. A warm smell drifted through the bakery, reaching even the cold tiles by the door.

At the back, flour dusted the wooden table. Each time the baker moved the tray trolley, its wheels rattled across a crack in the floor. Then the room fell quiet again.

The clock above the till clicked towards seven. On the glass door, the closed sign hung slightly crooked. Soon the baker would turn it round and let the morning in.

Behind the dark window, the loaves seemed to glisten. The counter lamp caught the cracked tops of their crusts, leaving the shelves beneath in shadow. Warm bread scented the air; near the door, that warmth gave way to the chill of the tiles.

A thin layer of flour softened the edges of the back table. The baker drew a finger through it, revealing a stripe of polished wood. Beside the oven, a trolley wheel rattled over a crack, then stopped. In the hush that followed, the clock sounded unexpectedly loud.

Gradually, grey light spread across the window. The baker straightened the paper bags and lifted the closed sign from its hook. For a moment, the room held its warmth and silence. Then the latch clicked, and cold morning air slipped inside.