The sweet aroma of freshly baked croissants wafted through the air as the morning sunlight streamed through the bakery's windows. The hum of small-town chatter filled the cozy space, punctuated by the occasional clinking of cups and saucers. "I heard the Thompsons' boy got into some kind of trouble last night." "Oh? What kind of trouble?" "He was seen arguing with Emily Wilson outside the movie theater. Looked pretty heated, from what I heard." "Emily can be a bit of a handful, but she's a sweetheart deep down. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding." "Maybe, but I heard he was the one who vandalized the mayor's campaign signs last week." "Really? I hadn't heard that. Do you think it's true?" "I don't know, but if it is, his parents are going to have their hands full with that one. He's always been a bit of a wild card." The baker, a friendly woman with a flour-dusted apron, slid a tray of golden-brown muffins into the display case, her eyes twinkling with interest as she listened to the gossip.