Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAMV8JVP0YA2D303YS9R4V

The bakery on Willow Street woke to drizzle and the hum of an old mixer. Flour drifted in lazy motes, catching the morning light like snow from a friendly ceiling. A tabby slept on a sack of sugar, tail brushing the edge of a cinnamon jar. Mae, the baker, pressed her palms together and inhaled the warm scent of butter and coffee. Finn, the town deputy, leaned against the counter with a notebook tucked under his arm. "Did you hear the back door rattle again, or was trouble paying a visit?" "Trouble wears flour on its sleeves and lemon on its breath." "The Widow's Velvet recipe is missing from the back shelf." "Missing is generous; it vanished with a shard of memory." "Someone hollowed out the recipe card and left a note." "Notes usually mean we should look away from something sweeter." "Or sweeter than the truth." "Check the ledger for odd payments after last night's bake-off." "Money leaves footprints in sugar." "Let's follow them to the elder tree behind the church." "From there, the town will tell us who wanted us to forget." "Or remind us why we bake in Willow Creek."