Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ8AC13F21RE0ZHGZVS4NF2

Flour dusted the air like early snow, catching in the golden light that spilled through the front windows. The scent of cinnamon and yeast wrapped around the room, warm and familiar. "You know, I found Mrs. Pembleton’s cat sleeping in the bread oven again this morning. Not turned on, of course. Just curled right up in there like it’s her personal throne." "Only in this town. Though, I can’t blame her—your brioche does have a certain hypnotic warmth." "Ha. Tell that to my insurance adjuster. He says one spark and the whole place goes up." "Still, better than finding a ghost in the flour bin like last week. You ever figure out who left those old theater bills in the back shelf?" "Martha swears she didn’t. But I caught her humming show tunes yesterday behind the counter. Suspicious, if you ask me." "Everyone’s suspicious when free scones are involved. Speaking of—did you make the lavender ones?" "Fresh this morning. But not a crumb leaves this counter until you tell me who’s been stealing the cookie samples when Doris isn’t looking." "Cross my heart. But I did see someone in a postal uniform sneaking a double chocolate chunk behind the hydrangeas." "Roy? That sweet old mailman?" "Sweet as pie. But pie with a secret agenda." A laugh rang out, echoing against the ceramic tiles. Outside, church bells marked the hour, and another customer pushed through the door, jingling the little bell overhead.