Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYBAEE9FVPG018FM0EJVK61

The scent of cinnamon and yeast hung thick in the air, battling with the faint, lingering aroma of burnt sugar. Flour dusted every surface – the counter, the tables, even the worn, red telephone box by the door. A half-finished batch of blueberry muffins sat cooling on a wire rack, their plump purple domes glistening under the warm bakery lights. “You really shouldn’t be sneaking in here, Beatrice,” a gruff voice said, low and laced with amusement. “Old Mr. Henderson will have a fit.” “He’s asleep, Harold,” a softer reply countered, accompanied by the gentle clinking of a ceramic mug. “And besides, a girl’s got to have a sweet treat. Especially after a morning like this.” “A morning involving a missing prize-winning pumpkin and a very agitated farmer?” “Precisely. It calls for something decadent. Do you think they have anything with chocolate? Dark, preferably. And don’t even *think* about suggesting vanilla.” A chuckle rumbled through the small space. “Always the dramatic one, aren't you?” “Someone has to maintain a semblance of order in this chaos.” A spoon dipped into a slice of rich, dark chocolate cake. “Now, about that pumpkin…”