As the title says, that's what I was doing. I was kneading the dough for our next batch of bread.. One of the regulars had come in, a foreman for a worksite nearby. He liked to buy the bread fresh so his workers would stop complaining about stale lunches. It got them to work harder, apparently. I wasn't convinced. Seems like spoiling a child, except it's with fully grown men.

The day had been pretty grey, and mundane. I was filling in for my Dad because he was ill. Something about 'finally doing his goddamn back in', the weekly complaint. Don't get me wrong, I did enjoy baking.. just, doing this instead of going out with my friends like I'd planned kinda sucked. Well. What can you do? So I kept going. I kept kneading the dough, convinced I'd only stop when the sky got dark and the day of work was finished.. but I wouldn't be recalling it like this if that was the case.

Instead, about five minutes after the seventh time cursing my Dad inwardly for making me miss out on the time with my friends, a great tremor shook the Earth. I didn't even know what was happening, until the lights flickered out and the sky seemed to go dark over a five second period. Then the building caved in. Apparently the ceiling wasn't as strong as we thought, and I learned that the hard way after watching the bricks collapse and cave my Mom's skull in.. Though I won't be too much more graphic than that. It wasn't long after, while standing in the rubble, unharmed through some unknown God's blessing, that I heard my Dad shout through from the back-room.

I rushed through, listening to his pained shouting as I did.. I remember at the time it was heart-wrenching, as I rounded the corner that used to be a doorway and saw his head and arms reaching out from below the rubble. Even with my meagre strength I managed to shove most of the bricks aside.. but he wasn't breathing at that point.

I don't actually recall much of that day after that. I'm not quite sure why, now, I'm deciding to record such an old memory in this little notepad I keep either.. Especially with the big day coming up tomorrow. But I picked this notepad up from my Dad's pocket for a reason on that day. I intended to record the important things that happened, so I couldn't be forgotten. And God only knew how much I'd end up writing after meeting that damned psychopath.

I'm going to leave this at the entrance. I don't want it to be lost with me.. No-one else will listen but I don't think we're gonna make it out tomorrow.

So, whoever picks this up, I leave our memories and lessons to you. Use them well.

But don't die following them.

-Zeke Valerian, The Cursed Touch.