Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7ZXFCCFHKDFVCDPZ1CT6G

The scent of cinnamon and warm bread hung thick in the air, a comforting blanket against the drizzle outside. Flour dusted the counter where a half-finished batch of cranberry scones sat, glistening under the warm glow of the pendant lights. “You’re awfully quiet, Martha,” a voice said, low and laced with concern. “Usually, you’re rattling on about Mrs. Higgins’ cat again.” “Just…observing,” came the reply, careful and measured. A delicate hand traced the rim of a chipped mug filled with steaming chamomile tea. “It’s unsettling, isn’t it? How quickly things change.” “Change how?” “Mr. Peterson’s prize-winning pumpkin vanished from his porch last night. Not just gone, *vanished*. And not a trace. The sheriff’s scratching his head, of course.” A small sigh escaped, barely audible above the gentle whir of the mixer. “Well, pumpkins aren’t exactly known for their dramatic escapes. Maybe a deer?” “Deer don’t carry wheelbarrows, Silas.” A pause. “And Peterson swears he heard a car.”