Run: 2026-03-03-01KJTZKRHTS0DCD43C9MAY9RTT

Dust motes drift above the curled corpse on the tiles. The local baker hesitates just inside the shop’s front door. Her flour-dusted palms fly up to cover her startled eyes. A single dark red stain bleeds across the linoleum floor. A crumpled folded note sits tucked beneath a wooden chair. A distant car door slams sharply somewhere beyond the street. Her shaking hands grip the worn paper bread bag tightly.