By Eva Dias Costa in Signals — 13 Jun 2025

#8. In a minor key.

A piano was found in a bakery.
It played only crusts.
Someone ate the sheet music, claiming it tasted like regret with a hint of rosemary.

The baker swore he hadn’t ordered a piano,
but admitted he had been dreaming in chords since Tuesday.

In the alley behind the shop,
a fox was selling time in jars.
No one bought any.

A sign above the register read:
If you don’t know what you lost, we can’t refund it.

At closing, the piano baked itself into a cake.
No one applauded,
but the lights dimmed with something close to mercy.