Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95859TDN2YJDNWWHEDZ3TE

The aroma of almond croissants and dark roast coffee hung thick in the air of Martha’s Morsels, a comforting hug against the brisk autumn morning. Sunlight slanted through the lace-curtained window, illuminating dust motes dancing above a tray of glistening cherry tarts. Clara, nestled into her usual corner booth, carefully stirred her tea, watching Martha meticulously arrange a fresh batch of blueberry muffins. "Did you hear about Penelope Bloom’s prize-winning petunias?" "Oh, I saw them. Absolutely glorious, weren't they? Best in the county fair for three years running." "Were. Someone, last night, decided they needed a trim. A rather… aggressive trim. Right down to the dirt." "No! Not her petunias! Penelope will be beside herself. She treats them like grandchildren." "Exactly. And the strange part? Nothing else disturbed. Just the petunias. Almost surgical." "How odd. Must have been a neighbourhood prank gone too far, surely?" "Perhaps. But Penelope swears she saw a new delivery van lingering down her lane well past midnight. A plain white one. Not one she recognised." Martha paused, a smudge of flour on her cheek. "A new delivery van? In Finch Hollow? Now that *is* interesting."