Run: 2026-03-03-01KJTYYB65AFQJT7F77YWC9GBM

The bell above Honeycrumb Bakery’s front door jingles, sending a flurry of flour dust motes twisting in the golden morning light filtering over the glass display case. The scent of freshly baked cinnamon rolls curls around the scuffed linoleum counter, where a half-empty pot of chamomile tea steams beside a crumpled napkin. A jar of star-shaped cookie cutters sits next to the cash register, and a stack of brown paper bags leans against the back wall. You didn’t swipe my saved lemon lavender scone, did you? I drove ten minutes out of my way just for it. I swear I haven’t touched anything behind the glass except restocking the rhubarb muffins. Your scone was right here ten minutes ago! Wait, the teen who popped in for a free sample right before you stepped to the restroom? He hung around the case for ages. He mentioned he loved lemon lavender once, didn’t he? Figured he might sneak one? No receipt for a scone on the register, either. And I locked the case myself after I set it aside for you. Guess I’ll have to settle for a cinnamon roll then, but only if you throw in an extra glazing of cream cheese. Deal. But I’m gonna track that kid down later—he owes me a scone, and a very frazzled regular her morning pick-me-up.