The oven had sputtered for days, but when Felicia opened it that morning, it exploded in a cloud of glitter. The air in the kitchen was still cold, the windows icy with night frost that glistened in the dim light of the lamp that hung centrally from the ceiling and occasionally flickered, as if something moved behind the glass. She sneezed and blinked furiously. Her eyes teared up and she had to squeeze them shut while she tried to rub the glitters from her eyes with her pinkie. They were everywhere: in her hair, her nostrils, her clothes. She hadn't patted the glitter from her clothes yet, but she'd swear it was already under her fingernails.

Felicia sighed and hid her face in her hand. Why was it always the spirits in her oven that acted up? Why not those in her reading lamp, or the phone? That oven was her source of income and she couldn't just close the bakery for a day.

She shook her head and small clouds of glitter flew up. "You are some fickle beings, aren't you? Always being difficult in the morning. Not that I don't get you. I'd rather sleep too. But if I have to work at four in the morning, you do too. And you don't even need sleep." There was a time when getting up wasn't such a hardship, but now she had a broken kettle and spirits who didn't answer instead of warm coffee and hugs. Back then the spirits answered, too.

Felicia left a trail of glitter while she climbed the stairs to her room above the bakery. She tapped on the glass of the lamp that hung about a step away from the door and for a moment, the light blinded her, before it turned off again and then stabilised with an even, warm glow.

"Sorry, mate. Your colleagues are acting up again and I have to make a phone call. You can sleep again soon." The lamp buzzed.

The phone was a rectangular brown box with a copper horn to speak. Felicia pressed a big, round button on the side and the phone buzzed and spread a soft light through a few slits. Felicia didn't know their purpose. Did spirits need to breathe? Showing the spirit was awake?

"Connect me to the help desk from Spirit Talkers. Central Square, Darám." The phone buzzed again. The glow flickered off and back on.

"Hello, this is Spirit Talkers. How can we help you?" The voice on the line was calm and neutral, more cheerful than Felicia felt at this early hour. They clearly took service night and day seriously.

"You are speaking with Felicia, the bakery in the street with the fog lamps. My oven has just exploded in a cloud of glitter and I have to work today. Could you send someone as soon as possible?"

The person from the help desk hummed. "You are in luck. One of our Spirit Talkers is currently free. You can expect them in five minutes."

Felicia ended the conversation and the phone buzzed again and the glow winked and disappeared.

"Back to bed? I understand." She sighed. She'd better go downstairs and start working, so everything could go into the oven immediately when the spirits were cooperating again.

***

The five minutes were more like ten minutes and Felicia had just found her rhythm with kneading and decorating - some extra glitter in the baked goods wouldn't do any harm - when the lamp above the entrance of the bakery turned on. Felicia patted the flour and glitter from her hands and clothes and yelled: "The door is open!"

"You should really leave the beam blocked until you open the bakery," a drawling voice answered. "Or invest in a real copper lock." The tall stature in long gowns that walked in was both familiar and alien. They still looked the same, but the time they were in the bakery every morning seemed another life.

"Why are you here?" Felicia blurted.

"Have you already forgotten what my job is?" Fern laughed. Felicia hated how she could feel that laugh in her belly, as if nothing had changed.

"They sent you?!"

Fern shrugged. "I was free."

Felicia pursed her lips. "Okay. It's the oven again. Good luck."

Fern's laugh tinkled again. "You know that I always got along with them. If there's someone who can convince them to cooperate, it's me."

That was true, but Felicia's mouth said: "And you think they'll still like you, after you have left them with me for so long?"

"Don't you think hearing my sweet voice will be enough?" Fern posed with their hand on their hip and a gleam in their eyes. Felicia's eyes followed the elegant curve of their gowns. Fern had always known how to best use clothes to emphasise what they wanted and to hide what they were insecure about.

"Not if you've left all your charms at home, and that's the impression you're giving."

"So bitter!" Fern shook their head with a laugh. "You should do something about that morning mood of yours. Or find another job."

"Just make sure the oven works again. I'm gonna do my current and future job and knead things," Felicia replied stiffly.

"Of course, darling. I'll call when I'm ready. Pink glitter suits you, by the way." Felicia looked down. The contrast between the dark skin of her arms and the salmon pink glitter did look good. Fern had given her a dress in that colour once, in a fabric with glitter.

When she looked up, Fern kneeled by the oven. Felicia couldn't avert her gaze. It had been a long time since she had seen Fern talking with the spirits and it soothed the cold in her to hear them humming and crooning. Fern had explained to her that it was a language, but Felicia had never understood how exactly music could be enough. Music was emotions, but music was also vague.

She returned to her loaves of bread and cakes, but from the corner of her eye, she kept looking at Fern. Still, it came as a surprise when Fern stood up and announced: "They will cooperate now, but every time you've cleaned out the oven, you should sprinkle some cinnamon in it."

"Cinnamon?"

Fern shrugged. "I only pass the messages."

"Spirits don't need food, do they?"

"I think they mostly want the smell."

"The smell." Felicia sighed. "I suppose that if that is enough to make sure they cooperate, I can afford some unused cinnamon."

"Are things that bad?"

"Things ... are. But I'm alone and it's sometimes tight." She lost her train of thought. Fern was her ex! What was she doing venting about how hard things were since Fern had left?! "What do you care?" she snapped. She wished she could push Fern outside, but she didn't know what she'd do if she touched them.

"Licia ..." Fern's gaze was soft and it drove Felicia crazy.

"Don't call me that! You don't have that right anymore!"

"Felicia ... Do you really think I suddenly don't care anymore how you are doing?"

"If you'd cared, you'd have stayed." Felicia crossed her arms.

"Felicia, you know that has nothing to do with the matter. It was at the moment the best decision for both of us."

"The best decision for you, yeah," Felicia grumbled. She turned her head to the window where the nightly frost still glistened. "If it had been up to me ..."

"Then what?" Felicia insisted. "We both had to learn to be our own person and to live on our own."

"You, maybe," Felicia mumbled.

Fern shook their head. "Don't be like that, Licia."

"I already said to not call me that!"

Fern pulled up an eyebrow. "Did I lose my charms?" They shot Felicia a flirty smile and winked.

"And ... And stop trying to seduce me!"

"I thought that was what you wanted?" Fern replied in a fake innocent tone.

"You ... You ... You never listen to me! You never take me seriously! You always take decisions without thinking about what I want! You didn't come back! You ... You ..."

"Shut up, Felicia." Fern grasped Felicia's face between their hands and kissed her. Felicia made a sound of protest, but her hands circled Fern's neck and she kissed them back. When they stopped kissing, Fern arched one eyebrow again and asked: "Was that serious enough? Did I take your wishes into account?"

Felicia rested her head on Fern's shoulder. "Always the same with you," she mumbled, but it was fond.

Fern stroked her hair. "I assume that's a yes. Will you let me in if I come back tonight?"

"Maybe."

"Sometimes you are worse than a moody spirit." Their words curled around a laugh.

Felicia huffed. "Luckily, not everything is covered in pink glitter when I explode. It could always be worse."

Fern shook their head. "Only you. Only you."

***

Author's Note: the idea to write a story about spirits came to me after reading Bell Tower by SmokeAndOranges (go check it out!). I'm absolutely in love with this worldbuilding and hope to write a longer story in the same world, so I'm taking any and all feedback and suggestions! Also inspired by a writing club prompt about a baker in a relationship crisis/break.