Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAXD8SY5YSVY0SSWK1K9TM

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 clock. "Another late customer, I suppose." "Or maybe just a regular," murmured the baker, stirring a pot of sugar cookies. The dough glistened under the warm light, the scent of vanilla and butter thick in the air. Clara set down her apron. "You’re right. But they’re always late. The old man from down the street—Mr. Holloway—always shows up at this time. He’s been coming in for years, every Tuesday at exactly the same time." The baker leaned against the counter, watching her. "He’s always been odd. Once, he asked for a loaf of bread with a single raisin in the middle. Said it was for his wife’s birthday." Clara’s eyes narrowed. "And what did you tell him?" The baker chuckled. "I told him the raisin was a surprise. But he just smiled and said, ‘Surprises are for the living.’" The bell chimed again, and the baker turned, ready to greet the next customer.