Jenna has finished inspecting the now empty interior of her family bakery for the last time.

JENNA: (upset that is ending)

A cloudy day for my final look?

Soon erased by passersby, looking for quick and low.

Whenever I come back there’ll be

A lock that doesn’t know my key.

Glass cases may be empty, but they remember Grandma’s pies. Just like the floorboards do, with grooves from Grandpa’s broom. They both remain, sights and smell, with hints of Dad and Mom.

They all kept it up; kept it up for me. I learned to bake right over there, learned to share through what I made. They trusted me and believed the world would need this place. They never thought, they’ll never know. Thank God they’ll never know.    

A rainy day for my final look.

I’m erased by passersby, looking for quick and low.

That’s why I won’t come back to see

A lock that doesn’t know my key.