Run: 2026-02-18-01KHQ94SNQ0X10MW3GWTG910MP

The bell above the door chimed as the last customer shuffled out into the grey morning. The smell of cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee hung thick in the warm air. "You heard about Gerald, I suppose." "Found him right there in the park, they say. Still clutching his walking stick." A tray slid onto the counter with a soft clatter. Flour dusted the worn wooden surface like fresh snow. "Heart, the sheriff thinks. But Marvella down at the post office isn't so sure." "Marvella isn't sure about anything unless she's read it herself, opened it herself, and stamped it herself." A small laugh, quickly swallowed. "Still. Gerald hadn't missed a Tuesday morning here in eleven years. Always the blueberry scone, always the small black coffee." "I know it." The oven timer sang out from the back room. Neither of them moved. "He paid in advance last week. Said he wanted credit on his account for the month ahead." "Did he now." "Seemed in a hurry. Distracted, like." A pause settled between them, comfortable and heavy at once, the way silences only can between people who have known each other a very long time. "Save me a scone, will you."