Noon settled over Briarwick during that golden hour when the city caught its breath between morning chaos and afternoon rush. The sidewalks swarmed with every type of person imaginable—students freshly dismissed from class, office workers on lunch breaks, and die-hard fans who'd trek across town just for a taste of the renowned noodle shop in the city's outskirts. Under a bright sky cooled by gentle breezes, it was the kind of perfect weather that made you glad to be alive. Even on a weekday, every stool and booth in the modest eatery was claimed by hungry patrons.
The place was called Dontaz's Noodles, named after its owner—a man whose noodle-pulling skills were only matched by his stubbornness. No matter how booming business got, he clung to his tiny establishment like a miser to gold.
