Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFGX693XNRT8TF1C5NJEA7K

Flour dusted the oak bakery counter, sticking to the smudge of cinnamon left by this morning’s pumpkin sticky buns. The bell above the door had stopped jingling ten minutes prior, leaving only the hum of the refrigerated display case and the crinkle of wax paper wrapping a pear danish for tomorrow’s first customer. Sun slanted through the front window, gilding the jar of peppermints by the register. You left that lighthouse storage key on the back porch again, didn’t you? Marge’s beagle got loose yesterday. I wasn’t about to let him chew through the cord for the town tree’s lights, same as he did last year. You think anyone saw you haul the nativity’s baby Jesus back from the old mill pond yesterday? Only the teen who swiped him two weeks ago. He left a twenty on the back step this morning, said he was too ashamed to come in and apologize. He gonna run for homecoming king after that stunt? Nah. Said he’s gonna spend the rest of the month helping us fix up the town square. Pass the extra salted butter, will you? We’ve got brioche to mix before dawn.