Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8X2R82CYVHDD6THNX9T2CG

The smell of cinnamon rolls hung thick in the air as the morning rush thinned to a trickle. Flour dusted the countertops, and a hand-lettered chalkboard advertised the day's special: lemon poppy seed loaf. "You heard about Gerald Finch, I suppose." "Found him in the orchard, they're saying. Face down near the old cider press." "That's what Margaret told me. Though Margaret also told everyone her sourdough won the harvest fair, and we all know that's a bold-faced lie." "Still. A man doesn't just fall like that." "No, he doesn't." The coffee machine hissed. A cloth wiped slowly across the glass display case, pausing near the blueberry scones. "Sheriff thinks it was an accident." "The sheriff also thought the Delacroix barn fire was a coincidence." "Fair point." A small bell above the door chimed as someone left, letting in a brief ribbon of cold autumn air. "Gerald owed money to half this town, you know." "I know." "Then it's quite a long list of accidents waiting to happen, isn't it?" The cloth stopped moving entirely. Two pairs of eyes met briefly over the pastry case, and nothing more needed to be said.