"It’s impossible, Tim," the baker sighed, looking at the dense yellow fog clinging to the cobblestones. "No one can navigate the docks in this."
was the nickname given to the van’s driver, a young, jovial man named Timothy who had a penchant for giving free sweets to the neighborhood children. He was small, round, and always wore a crisp white apron over his coat, making him look like a walking lump of sugar.
One foggy December night, with Christmas only a day away, the bakery’s main supply truck broke down. The orphanage on the edge of town was set to receive nothing but stale bread for their holiday feast.
"Old Jake can," Timothy said, patting the dashboard of the van.
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