This is a snapshot of life for two people in one Baghdad neighbourhood.
Before I introduce you to the baker and the barber though, a little background...
They both work in Karrada which sits on the east bank of the river Tigris.
It is one of the wealthier parts of the city and right now it is seen as something of a haven. In this case that means bombings and shootings only once or twice a week, rather than every day.
This is a majority Shia area, but many of its residents are Sunni, and there are large numbers of Christians too.
So far though it has avoided the fate of other traditionally mixed neighbourhoods which have become ever more homogeneous, as death squads and militias drive out whichever group is in the minority.
The question though everyone in Karrada has at the back of their minds is: how long before it starts happening here too?
Fresh bread
Hussein, the baker, is a Shia. Sami, the barber, is a Christian. These are not their real names.
There is nothing fancy about Hussein's bakery. No cakes or pastries on sale here, just one kind of traditional flat bread.
He works incessantly as he answers my questions, flipping diamond-shaped pieces of dough from a tray and onto a long wooden paddle.
Once full, he plunges it into a cavernous oven beside him.
I soon feel myself starting to sweat with the intense heat coming from within. Hussein keeps cool though with the aid of two large fans attached to the wall behind.
It is not long before he whips the paddle out again. Almost in the same movement, he sweeps the freshly cooked bread down a chute and starts filling the paddle again.
A colleague at the other end of the chute scoops a bundle into a bag and hands it to a customer waiting at the window.
It is a wonderfully efficient process - it is just minutes between the dough going into the oven and a customer walking away with steaming-hot bread for the evening meal to break the Ramadan fast.
Easy target
Hussein is a tough-looking character, with a boxer's face and forearms shaped like bowling skittles.
But he is nervous. He is not just keeping watch on his bread. His eyes flick constantly towards the street outside.
Because bakers have become the latest casualties in Iraq's seemingly unstoppable slide into communal blood-letting.
The reason is simple - traditionally most bakeries in the city have been run by Shia families.
So, for Sunni insurgents trying to stir the sectarian demon, or seeking revenge for Shia attacks on their own communities, bakers make an easy target.
The stern face of one of the most revered Shia Imams staring down from the wall leaves no room for doubt as to the kind of Muslims who work here.
"We will stand up to these people," says Hussein. "We are doing a good thing, making bread for the people."
"The government has to protect us," he says - his tone suggests though he has little hope it will.
It is hardly surprising - Iraqi government and American security plans for Baghdad have come and gone, but the killing only increases.
We don't stay long. They are concerned that the presence of our foreign faces will attract undue attention. Hurry, hurry, says the man at the bread chute, as I finish talking to Hussein.
Baghdad bakers and barbers at risk
