Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPDK4XPGB1R10FCJRGC8ZA

The bell above the door jingled as the scent of cinnamon and warm sugar curled through the air. "Another one of your famous apple fritters, please. And maybe a cup of that chai you make—extra cinnamon." "You’re here again? Third time this week. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding something." "Can’t a man just appreciate fine pastries?" "Sure, if that man isn’t also the one who ‘accidentally’ knocked over Mrs. Henderson’s prize-winning dahlias yesterday." "A tragic gardening mishap. The wind was *very* strong." "The wind, huh? Funny how it only blows when you’re near her flower beds." "Pure coincidence. Speaking of coincidences—heard anything about old man Whitmore’s missing pocket watch?" "Now why would I know about that?" "Because you *also* ‘accidentally’ bumped into him at the post office the day it vanished." "That was an *elbow* to the ribs, not a bump. And I was defending my honor—he called my croissants *dry*." "Uh-huh. So you’re saying the watch just… walked off on its own?" "Exactly. Probably tired of being attached to *him*." A pause. "You want that fritter to-go, or are you planning to interrogate me all morning?" "To-go. But I’ll be back. The wind’s picking up near the hardware store."