Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFJGCKR1FGSKM5H05FYXX80

The morning fog clung to frosted windows, blurring the street into soft charcoal. Inside, warmth radiated from puddles of buttercream. The smell of vanilla was thick enough to chew. "Where did the last batch go?" Dust motes danced around a whisk. Wiped hands on a floured apron. "They're under the counter." "No, not just the batch. The cranberry tarts." "Those were the ones visible at the front window." I paused, locked gaze. "You saw the girl in red take them." Sugar dropped into the bowl with a clink. "We went home after." The frustration was still sweet. "They were gone by ten o'clock." "Ten o'clock?" I sighed. "I checked the cameras. There are no more tarts." "Who else is in this town who likes them?" A memory surfaced. "You mentioned Mrs. Henderson yesterday." "Maybe someone else baked." Something about that didn't feel right. "It wasn't for display." "I think I know something now." "Go see her." "She lives alone." And the clock chimed.