Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYB654CZV6GFQGX5SKVMVNE

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 practiced. "And a coffee—black, no sugar." She slid the pastries across the counter, watching the fingers tap the countertop in a familiar rhythm. "You’re early. The usual table?" "Always. Unless it’s raining, then I’ll take the window seat by the oven. The steam’s almost as good as the view." She wiped her hands on her apron, leaving a faint dusting of flour. "You’re not wrong. Though today’s rain’s just a tease. More like a promise." The other person chuckled, pulling out a notebook and a pen. "Promises are dangerous things. Especially in a town where everyone knows your order before you do." She grinned. "And yet, you’re still here. Every Tuesday at nine." "Some habits are harder to break than others." A pause. "Speaking of habits—did you hear about the new bakery opening on Maple Street?" Her smile faded. "No. Who’s behind it?" "Some woman from the city. Claims she’s got a ‘fresh take’ on things." The pen tapped again, slower now. "You think she’ll last?" She leaned in, lowering her voice. "If she doesn’t know better than to mess with a town that’s been baking the same way for fifty years, she won’t last a week."