Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY931JEA0E4KMTA7HP6K93B

The bell above the bakery door chimed as the scent of fresh cinnamon rolls wafted through the air. Clara wiped her hands on her apron, her brow furrowed as she glanced at the ledger. "Another missing order," she muttered, her voice tight with frustration. "Did you check the freezer?" asked a voice from behind her. Clara turned, her eyes narrowing. "I did. The rolls were there—just like always." A chuckle rumbled from the counter. "Maybe they’re not *always* there. Maybe someone’s been sneaking them." Clara’s fingers tightened around her pen. "Or maybe the freezer’s been tampered with." The door creaked open, and a customer stepped inside, their coat damp. "I’m sorry, I must’ve walked in on something," they said, glancing between the two. Clara exhaled sharply. "Just checking the day’s orders, Mr. Whitmore." The customer nodded, but his gaze lingered on the ledger. "You ever think it’s not just the rolls?" Clara’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Then who’s been taking them?"