Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQHEEK0GR66V4T647RMP5R

The bell above the door chimed as a gust of autumn wind swept in, carrying the scent of cinnamon and damp leaves. "Did you hear about old Mr. Holloway’s prize-winning pumpkin going missing? Right off his porch last night!" "Oh, I heard. Poor man—he’s been bragging about that thing for weeks. Said it was big enough to feed the whole town at the harvest festival." "Well, someone must’ve been hungry—or jealous. You don’t just *accidentally* roll a two-hundred-pound pumpkin into the back of a truck." "Or maybe it was the ghost of Old Man Withers. You know how he used to haunt the pumpkin patch every October." "Don’t be ridiculous. Withers has been gone for twenty years. Besides, ghosts don’t leave wheelbarrow tracks in the mud." "Then who *does*? The sheriff’s been poking around, but you know how he is—more interested in his coffee than clues." "Speaking of coffee…" A pause, followed by the clink of a ceramic mug. "You think Marjorie’s new apple cider donuts had anything to do with it? She’s been selling out every morning." "Please. If Marjorie wanted to sabotage the competition, she’d do it with a smile and a free muffin. That woman’s too sweet to steal a pumpkin." "Then who’s left? The whole town’s been acting strange lately—like someone’s stirring up trouble just for fun." "Or someone’s hiding something." A slow sip. "You don’t think…?" "Think what?" "Never mind. Just pass the sugar."