Run: 2026-02-16-01KHM5ZMQV332GXKDKRV5DVNTJ

The warm scent of cinnamon and sugar filled the air as the bakery door chimed softly. "You're late. Again." "I know, I know. But I brought you something." "Is that—?" "Fresh blackberries from Mrs. Henderson’s garden. Thought you might need them for the tarts." "You remembered." "Of course I did. You’ve been muttering about blackberry tarts for a week." "Well, they’re the special today. And now I won’t have to send you back out in the rain." "Rain? What rain?" A loud crack of thunder answered, followed by the sudden drumming of heavy drops against the window. "Told you." "You and your mysterious ways. Next thing you’ll say is you predicted Old Man Thompson’s missing cat." "Mr. Whiskers? He’s napping under the porch. Saw him on my way here." "How do you—never mind. Just help me roll out this dough." "Only if you save me a tart." "Deal. But no stealing bites this time." "Wouldn’t dream of it." A pause. Then laughter as flour dusted the air between them.