His customers always confided in Damir. Who was pregnant, who was the real father, who was a miser, who stole from his boss. Ayagoz was a small town and Damir was always at his shop. His work started before daylight, so when customers came in he was too tired to protest. But he would fume when kneading his loaves as his ovens heated up. “Is it my face?” he asked. “Is it the smell of yeast? Have I put a sign on my window, ‘Rolls for rumors, Shelpek for secrets’?” People confessed their sins to him and he never commented or gave blessing or absolution.