Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94YS4QQ49A0YY0RMV6JZYQ

The scent of cinnamon and cardamom hung thick in the air, mingling with the earthy aroma of rising sourdough. Sunlight streamed through the bay window of "The Sweet Surrender," illuminating dust motes dancing above the counter laden with honey cakes and glistening fruit tarts. A steady rhythm punctuated the morning—the clink of ceramic mugs, the soft rustle of paper bags. "Did you see him at all this morning?" "Not a trace. Which is odd, usually he’s here before the croissants are even out of the oven, demanding an extra glaze." "He wouldn't leave without telling me. Not with the special ingredient order due today. It’s just not like him." "Perhaps he just overslept? Though I can't imagine Arthur missing his morning Black Forest gateau." "Arthur doesn’t *oversleep*. And his little blue Morris is still parked right outside his cottage, I checked on my way over. Locked up tight." "That’s… peculiar indeed. I did think I heard shouting last night, though. Faintly, from down by the old mill." "Shouting? Arthur isn’t the shouting type. Unless someone dared to criticize his victoria sponge." "Well, it wasn't cake critiques I heard. Sounded more like… anger. And desperation. Someone was certainly unhappy." "Oh dear. It isn't like him to just vanish. What if something has happened, Agnes?" "It wouldn't be the first time a shadow fell over Oakhaven, would it, George? Especially when the river runs high."