Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFDJS7PBJSH856PSBBBRWRD

The morning sun filtered through the shop windows, illuminating motes of flour dancing in heavy air thick with cinnamon and panic. Martha wiped down the glass display case, her hand trembling slightly. "He's back." "Who is he?" "The baker who vanished." A jar of jam shifted under the open drawer, rattling gently against the wall. "Maybe he just came to say hi." "I don't think strangers come to say hi when the key is in their pocket." Martha tossed a heavy apron onto the dirty counter, grease smearing across the stain. "Mr. Grimes always pays in person." "Is he paying today?" "Just a slip." "A single one? Just like that?" "Five dollars. Cash." "Grimes never carried cash." "What did you say?" "The job we can't afford." Martha's white knuckles tightened around the rag, her face cold. "No one knows how he got it." "Except the one hiding under the floorboard." "You think someone hid something?" "Or moved something?" "Maybe he went to the mill." "For flour?" "Or to leave in the dust." The register beeped loudly, signaling a new customer entered the room. "Answer it." "No." "Answer it." "He's an old man nobody knows." "Someone's scared." "He's afraid." "Afraid of what exactly?" "Of being seen."