In the early afternoon’s stillness, the bakery stood in serene solitude. The exhilarating aroma of freshly baked pretzels permeated the air.

  Lisa had prepared the setting with the utmost care, ensuring that everything was perfect for the guest. A single table stood at the center, draped in a pristine white cloth, upon which sat a beautifully crafted wooden platter bearing the singular work of art. One of Heinrich’s pretzels.

  Sister Helene stepped gracefully into the bakery. Heinrich, ever the gracious host, greeted her with a respectful nod, his presence a divine tranquility.

  “Welcome, Sister Helene,” Lisa began. “My father created something truly special. The time has finally come for you to experience it.”

  The nun looked at the pretzel with admiration. She slowly sat, and with a prayerful gesture, she reached out, delicately picking it up and taking a moment to admire its intricate twists and golden brown hue.

  With the silence of the bakery enveloping them, Sister Helene took a measured bite.

  A profound stillness followed. Her eyes shimmered with a mix of surprise and divine realization. The harmonious blend of flavors, the softness, the culmination of Heinrich’s dedication, seemed to transport her to a realm beyond.

  An enormous explosion with a mushroom cloud took place behind her. It was witnessed only by her.

  Suddenly, Sister Helene stood up and collapsed gracefully into a nearby chair, her pulse waning, her world darkening.

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  Lisa gasped, rushing to her side, while Heinrich, with no expression, looked on.

  In a realm that shimmered with divine brilliance, Sister Helene stood before the Gates. The heavenly glow, the soft harmonies of angelic voices, and the majestic presence of Saint Peter greeted her.

  “Sister Helene?” Saint Peter inquired in confusion.

  “The divine taste..” she started replying in wonder.

  Saint Peter stared perplexed, “what is this nonsense, sister? Your time on Earth is not yet over!”

  “The Pretzel..” she murmured, still entranced by the experience.

  Saint Peter sighed, “sister, return, and remember, while the taste was divine, your mission on Earth is still paramount. Go, now!”

  With that, Helene felt a gentle pull, and the ethereal realm faded away. She awoke to the tearful face of Lisa and a smile on Heinrich’s face.

  “I’ve journeyed beyond..” she whispered, her voice filled with awe.

  “Your words honor me beyond measure.” Heinrich replied.

  Sister Helene, her spirit revitalized, smiled. “Then, dear baker, may I suggest a slightly less celestial experience next time?”

  A chuckle of relief resonated in the bakery, sealing forever the day in the memories of Brotholztal’s history, and the entire world.

  More than a dozen centuries later, a young man took a first bite of a Pretzel in a bustling city square, blissfully unaware of its history, and declared, while chewing; “Thish ish, without a doubt, the mosht delishious thing ever created!”

  The End