Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ95XNVY1QDS49VP89M61PPA

Mrs. Gable, flour dusting her apron, beamed from behind the counter, a tray of glistening cranberry scones cooling beside her. "Morning, Elara! The usual a-la-mode, I presume?" "You read my mind, Mrs. G. Though those scones are looking mighty tempting today." "Fresh out of the oven! Had to get up extra early. Someone, or rather, *something* has been keeping folks awake lately." She winked, scooping ice cream onto Elara’s apple pie. "Oh? Not one of Mr. Henderson’s runaway prize chickens, surely?" A soft chuckle. "Worse, dear. Much worse. Or rather, *quieter*. It’s the silence that’s unnerving me." She slid the pie across the counter. "Did you hear about Mrs. Periwinkle’s prize-winning petunias?" "Only that they won blue ribbon again. Why?" "Well, they did. But last night…" Mrs. Gable leaned in, voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Every single one was gone this morning. Vanished. Not broken, not trampled. Simply… gone. And no trace of dirt anywhere." "Gone? That’s… certainly unusual for Willow Creek. Who would do such a thing?" "That’s what everyone’s asking. And the peculiar thing is, Mrs. Periwinkle isn't upset about the flowers. She's upset about the note left in their place. A single, pressed forget-me-not."