Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPXWZCRDXJECNVM6M1ZZZP

The bell above the door jingled as the scent of cinnamon and yeast wrapped around the newcomer like a warm embrace. "Took you long enough. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost in your own backyard." "Very funny. You know I can’t resist a fresh batch of those almond croissants. Besides, someone had to make sure the historical society didn’t burn down the archives again." A snort came from behind the counter. "Last time was *one* incident. And it was hardly my fault the space heater had a mind of its own." "Uh-huh. Just like it wasn’t your fault the mayor’s prize-winning pumpkin pie ended up as a science experiment last fall?" "That was *not* my recipe! I told her a pinch of nutmeg, not a *handful*." The counter creaked as someone leaned against it, arms folded. "Speaking of disasters, you hear about old man Whitaker’s place? Found another one of those strange little carvings in his attic this morning." A pause. The clink of tongs against a tray. "You’re joking. That’s the third one this month." "Not joking. And this time, it wasn’t just a cat with too many eyes. There was writing underneath." "Well? What’d it say?" The bell jingled again as the door swung open, letting in a gust of autumn air. "Wouldn’t you like to know?"