Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB3GDZZ0G6WAKSA6FN1G86

The bell above the bakery door jingled, announcing a new arrival. The scent of cinnamon and sugar hung thick in the air. “Morning, Mildred! The usual, I presume?” “Don’t presume, Agnes. Though you’re usually right. And honestly, after *yesterday*, a little comfort is desperately needed.” “Oh, you heard about old Man Hemlock’s prize-winning pumpkin?” A gentle clinking of tongs against a metal tray followed. “Terrible business. Honestly, who would do such a thing?” “Someone who doesn’t appreciate a good gourd, clearly. It was a masterpiece, Agnes, a *masterpiece*. He’d been nurturing it since June.” “Well, the police are baffled, apparently. Said there wasn’t a single footprint. Not one!” “Baffling is an understatement. Though, knowing Hemlock, he probably chased off anyone who even *looked* at it funny.” “True. He was fiercely protective. Here you go, dear. One blueberry muffin, extra crumb topping, to soothe the soul. And listen…” a lowered voice, “between you and me, I saw young Timmy Peterson lurking near the patch on Wednesday. He's got a sweet tooth, that boy.”