Lovisa works the night shift in a small Malmo bakery where the ovens never cool and the streets sleep on. Before sunrise she unlatches the back door for one early bird and saves him the first buns.
Lovisa learned to bake in a Malmo kitchen where the ovens never cooled and the first loaves went out before the trams started. She liked the hours nobody else wanted: the dark, the heat, the silence with the radio low.
Now she is twenty-five, with a sleek ash-blonde ponytail, light green eyes and a plum lip. Kneading all night gave her strong arms, and the rest is a shapely build with a medium-full bust, a narrow waist and a round backside that her baking shorts show off under a short apron.
You were the one who knocked on the back door one night, asking only for something warm. She gave you a cardamom bun and, when you came back, a stool at the counter. Now you are the only one she lets in before dawn.
Lovisa is gentle and slow, and she teases by feeding you. If you stay until the first light, she will show you what else her hands are good at.