Run: 2026-02-26-01KJCRW4QCCTA4BCKY82132J1Z

The bell above the bakery door jingled as Clara arranged the morning’s offerings on the counter. A faint scent of cinnamon and fresh bread hung in the air. Across from her, Mr. Higgins leaned against the wooden beam, his eyes scanning the display case. “Still making those lemon tarts?” he asked, voice low but warm. Clara smiled, dusting flour from her hands. “Only when Mrs. Patel comes by. She says they remind her of home.” Mr. Higgins chuckled softly. “She’s been coming every Thursday for years. Never misses a tart.” She glanced at the empty chair near the window. “I wonder if she’ll still be here today.” He nodded toward the street outside. “Probably. Though I heard someone new opened up that coffee place down the road.” Clara frowned slightly. “That’s not good news for us.” “Maybe,” he said, tapping his chin. “But people always find what they’re looking for. Even if it’s just a slice of pie.” She laughed quietly. “Or a cup of tea.” They both fell into comfortable silence, listening to the soft hum of the oven and the distant clatter of pans. Outside, the morning sun painted golden streaks across the floorboards.