Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYBAK0A9PCGV8458MBP5GDT

The morning sun spilled through the bakery’s windows, casting golden dust over the counter where a fresh batch of cinnamon rolls cooled. The scent of vanilla and warm butter filled the air as the bell above the door chimed. "Three almond croissants, please," a voice said, smooth and practiced. "And a coffee—black, no sugar." The baker, arms laden with flour dust, wiped his hands on his apron. "You’re early. The usual?" "Not today. Something’s off." The voice paused, then added, "Did you hear about the old Miller place? Empty for weeks now, and last night, someone swore they saw a shadow moving behind the windows." The baker exhaled through his nose, stirring a pot of chai on the stove. "Rumors, that’s all. The town’s been jumpy since that letter showed up at the post office—signed with red ink, no return address." A pause. Then, quieter: "I found one in my mailbox yesterday. Just a single word: *Watch.*" The baker’s fingers stilled. "You didn’t tell the sheriff?" "No. Not yet." The voice lowered. "What if it’s not just a prank? What if someone’s trying to scare us out?" The baker’s gaze flicked to the bakery’s front window, where the glass fogged with condensation. "Then we’d better start watching *each other.*"