Before the city wakes up.
Flour clouds. Digital scale. A laminated recipe card taped to cold tile. The dough goes in the proofer at 4:45 — every batch the same, every pretzel different.
Wheels on pavement.
The brass cart rolls out. Canopy unfolds. The chalkboard menu goes up. By the time the first office worker smells it from half a block away, the first pretzel is already in the lye bath.
Hands reaching. Bags crinkling.
The line forms before the sign goes up. Paper bags. Mustard drizzling. Salt still catching light on the crust. Forty pretzels in forty minutes — nobody leaves without one.
String lights. Linen napkins. A pretzel wall.
The cart cleans up well. Private events, rooftop weddings, corporate launches — Twist arrives polished, sets up in 30 minutes, and becomes the thing everyone talks about on the way home.