Life is a funny thing. One minute, you're flying high, everything is going your way and the next, you're lying in the damn gutter, covered in mud and crap, trying to get your act together and wondering how the hell things got so bad.

I recently broke up with my girlfriend. We'd been together for almost five years. Yep, you read that right, folks, FIVE YEARS.

I thought she was 'the one.' The one I'd spend the rest of my life with. We were compatible in every way. Maybe a little too compatible.

We certainly weren't the most exciting couple on the planet. Neither of us was all big on being spontaneous. We were to put it bluntly, predictable and boring.

We went to dinner every Friday night at the exact same restaurant that we'd went for the last five years. We always ordered the exact same thing, every time.

Hell, we even made love on the exact same days that we always did, every Tuesday and Saturday night. Like clock work.

Maybe that was the problem. I don't know. All I know is that one day, after I'd arrived home from work, I discovered my girlfriend was packed and moving out.

I was stunned. I was hurt. I was confused. I wasn't sure what exactly was going on. I'd asked her what went wrong. Had I screwed up somehow? Was it something I said or did?

Had I left the toilet seat up too many times? Had I eaten the last piece of pie too often? Did I snore too loudly at night? Was I too much of a slob? Did I leave my dirty underwear lying around and her mom saw it and fainted?

Was I too disgusting? Did I burp or fart too often and she couldn't stand it anymore? Did I cough on her when I was sick? Or pick my nose in public?

I just didn't understand what the hell was going on. She didn't even give me ANY kind of explanation. All she said was, she was through. She didn't love me anymore and she needed to go and find herself. Huh. Okay. Whatever you say.

Then she walked out and I haven't seen or heard from her since. That was six months ago. Now, I'm rebuilding my life far away from all those memories.

So! Here I am, in Butler, New York, starting over. From scratch. (That's a little baker humor there, folks. You know, because bakers make things from scratch? You know what? Never mind.)

I know. I have a strange sense of humor. Maybe that's what really drove my girlfriend away. My weird sense of humor. She just couldn't take it anymore. It was driving her insane!

Again, I'm totally kidding. Or am I? I'll let you all be the judge of that one.

I enjoy baking. I used to bake for HER all the time. She said she loved it. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Maybe she only sort of loved it. Kinda like that two hundred year old aunt everyone has, with blue hair and is always wearing bright pink lipstick that she's had since she was a girl-which was a long time ago-and stuffs tissues up her dress sleeves and possibly in her bra.

Just kidding. Sorta. Who knows rather SHE actually enjoyed my baking or if she only pretended to so I'd be happy.

I might be boring, but I do prefer people to be honest with me about stuff. I mean, come on. Don't tell me you love my crap, when in reality, you think it really is crap.

I wander downstairs from my apartment, which resigns above my brand new spanking bakery. I look around.

It's not a bad place, by any means. I bought it from old man who wanted to retire with his equally old wife and move to Florida. Or somewhat that's not quite so damn cold in the wintertime.

I'll need to do some fixing up, but that's okay. It'll keep me busy and my mind off of HER.

My mind wanders to that cute little place I'd went to earlier. Now, that place had class. The woman who worked there seemed nice, too.

At least until my friend, Zane, arrived and rained on her parade. I saw the look on her face when she'd heard that dirty, dirty word: competition.

She's probably at this very moment, plotting my demise. (Pretend I'm doing an evil wicked laugh like they do in the movies.)

I doubt it's as serious as that. But heck, I'm not exactly the best one when it comes to reading people and their intentions.

>>>>>>>

I have another good friend who lives around here, Luke Manning. We've known each other for years. We attended high school together.

He's pretty boring, same as me. He's not married, either, although I know for a fact that he has a steady girlfriend. Her name is Charlotte and she is one spicy little senorita.

We'd had dinner a few times. Luke and Charlotte, me and the evil queen, who just heartlessly dumped me.

Anyways, Luke told that this town was a nice, little place and since I needed a fresh start, so I thought, what the hell?

I'm actually on my way to meet Luke now. My other crazy friend, Zane, the one who probably ruined the day for the last baker, is with me.

"It's been a while since I've seen Luke. He doing okay?" Zane pulls open the door to the bar and I walk in.

"Ask him yourself." I spot Luke almost immediately. He waves us over. Luke stands and he hugs me first, then Zane.

"Look what the dog dragged in!" Luke quips, grinning. I laugh and Zane pretends to yawn, like he's heard that one a hundred times already.

We sit and order beers and nachos.

"You ready to do battle?" Luke asks.

"Yeah, I'm ready, man. This is my chance to start a fresh. And I'm gonna dive in, head first."

"Careful that you don't crack your skull." Zane gives me a wide grin.

"Too late, my man. The evil queen already cracked it for me." Zane chuckles.

"I'm really sorry about that," Luke says. I shrug.

"Hey, in the game of life, you win some, you lose some." The door to the bar opens and a minute later, I'm face to face with Charlotte.

And....the woman from the bakery.

Chapter 2-Eli

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