Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKRX1PXGBH4JF4WEGM35TT6

The scent of cinnamon and fresh loaf drifted through the little shop, where flour‑dusted windows caught the morning sun. A lone cat curled on the counter, eyes half‑closed, while the cash register clicked softly with each customer’s payment. Two regulars lingered over steaming mugs, their conversation weaving through the clatter of ovens and the rustle of newspaper pages. “Did you hear about the old Miller house on Oak?” the voice asked, low enough not to disturb the nearby patrons. “Only that the lights flickered at night, like someone’s still trying to keep a party alive,” the other replied, a smile tugging at the corner of the mouth. “Rumor has it the new owners found a hidden stash of vintage jewelry behind the pantry wall,” the first said, eyes darting toward the display of croissants. “Imagine the police showing up in our quiet town, all because of a secret stash of pearls,” the second chuckled, tapping a finger against the ceramic mug. “Someone should tell the mayor—he’s too busy planning the spring fair to notice a little treasure hunt,” the first muttered, glancing at the bakery’s handwritten “Today’s Special” sign. “Or maybe we keep it to ourselves, enjoy the mystery while we nibble on these almond scones,” the second suggested, offering a bite. A soft chime announced another customer, and the bakery settled back into its warm, comforting rhythm.