Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAK3ERBQGB35W0JTWQZCME

The bell above the bakery door jingled as a gust of crisp autumn air rushed in. Warm cinnamon and vanilla scents wrapped around her like a hug. "Three almond croissants, please," the voice said, smooth and a little breathless. "And a coffee—black, no sugar." She slid the pastries across the counter, their golden crusts glinting under the warm lights. "You’re back early. Everything okay?" "Couldn’t sleep," the voice admitted, fingers tapping restlessly against the counter. "Couldn’t stop thinking about last night’s storm. The old oak by the creek—you know, the one with the hollow? It’s been leaning funny for months." She leaned in, lowering her voice. "Funny how? And why tell me?" "Because," the voice said, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "I found something in the hollow last week. A small, leather-bound journal. Pages torn out, but the ones left… they’re dated from *before* anyone can remember. Like it’s been there for decades." A chill prickled her arms. "And you didn’t report it?" "Didn’t want to be the one to dig it up," the voice confessed. "But now? I’m not so sure. Someone should know." She exhaled slowly, watching the steam rise from the coffee cup. "You’re right. But we’ll need to be careful. And quiet."