Fifteen minutes before the class began, all the participants had arrived for the one-day gluten-free baking course. In the spacious, sunlit waiting room—made cozy by dazzling white walls and apple-green faux-leather sofas and armchairs—twelve women chatted excitedly, each with their acquaintances.
Hedvig and Anna arrived together. Hedvig had to follow a strict gluten-free diet due to her celiac disease, while her friend Anna, an amateur pastry chef, wanted to expand her knowledge.
“This is great!” Hedvig exclaimed after taking a good look around. “I know almost everyone here.”
“Really?” Anna asked in surprise.
“Yes,” her friend nodded, her eyes sparkling. “I follow most of them on social media. That well-made-up girl over there is a sweetheart, and she’s incredibly versatile. She loves animals—you should see how she treats them! She also crochets and knows amazing upcycling tricks.”
“I only recognize one or two faces,” Anna admitted. “I guess most of them live in the area. We must pass by each other now and then.”
“Oh, I’ll tell you all about them. There are no secrets from me.” Hedvig tilted her head toward a short, chubby woman with spiky hair. “That one—she’s not normal. She’s always picking up trash somewhere and bragging about it.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Who cares what disgusting things she pulls out of the ditch?”
“I think it’s a nice thing to do.”
“Why brag about it? If you’re doing something selfless, you shouldn’t flaunt it.”
In the modern cooking studio, designed for fourteen participants, they first prepared the dough for braided sweet bread. While it was rising, they moved on to a simple cheese biscuit recipe.
“My biscuits look so misshapen,” a tall woman with fiery red hair lamented.
“Pfft,” Hedvig huffed. “I knew she’d mess it up.”
“Why do you say that?” Anna asked.
“Because she’s all thumbs,” her friend whispered. “I saw a video of her trying to complete some egg-peeling challenge.”
She shook her head in disapproval.
“And?”
“She completely squashed them. This woman is useless,” Hedvig said with a dismissive wave.
By the time the warm scent of freshly baked biscuits filled the kitchen, the sweet bread dough had risen.
“It’s so beautiful,” the well-made-up woman marveled.
Hedvig hurried over to her station to take a look.
“Wow,” she clapped her hands together, “yours rose so much higher than mine!”
“I’m sure yours will rise more in the oven,” the woman reassured her.
“Don’t be modest,” Hedvig flattered. “You must have kneaded it better. You’re so talented!”
“Me?” The woman’s smoky eyeshadow framed her widening eyes.
“Yes!”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything,” Hedvig said without hesitation. “You know all about horses, you crochet beautiful clothes and bags, and you have amazing upcycling tips.”
A few people nearby chuckled softly. The well-made-up woman blushed in embarrassment.
“Oh, you mean my videos?”
“Of course! You’re a goddess!” Hedvig cheered.
“Well, yes, thank you. It’s just that… I don’t actually do those things. I edit clips together. Or rather, my son does.”
Hedvig’s shocked question burst out before she could stop it.
“And what’s the point of that?”
“The same as everyone else’s… attention and racking up likes.”