Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK1QPW8DN2KWJZ35ZH0KJ88

Cinnamon and yeast hung heavy, masking the tension in her shoulders. She slid blueberry scones across the counter, glass warm from the morning bake. "Did you hear about the mayor?" "Hard not to. People are saying he wasn't alone at the lodge." A napkin crumpled in a nervous fist on the polished wood. "That's dangerous talk for a Tuesday morning." "Truth is always dangerous." Elbows rested on the case, eyes darting toward the frosted glass door. "He owed money. Everyone knows it." "Everyone knows a lot of things they shouldn't say out loud." She began wiping down the already spotless counter, avoiding eye contact, focusing on a stubborn smear of jam. "Will that be all?" "Just the scone. And maybe a word of advice." "Advice costs extra." "Stay locked up tonight. The harvest festival gets crowded." The bell above the door jingled, cutting off the reply. The threat hung in the air like flour dust in the sunlight. She looked at the back door, then at the knife block. Just another day in Havenwood. "Wait," echoed in the empty shop. She stepped into the doorway, but the street was already empty. The silence returned, heavy and sweet as dough.