Run: 2026-03-25-01KMJ8QNY28JDNNR3CPSDJPTW1

The bell above the bakery door jingled, and sunlight filtered through lace curtains, dust motes swirling like secrets. A fresh cherry pie cooling on the counter caught the eye, its filling dotted with black specks that might’ve been seeds—or something else. “I didn’t order this today.” “Special request from Mrs. Harlow. She said it’s a family recipe.” “Well, my grandmother’s version didn’t include… whatever that is.” “You’re sure? She mentioned it’s what cured her cold last winter.” “I’m sure. And I’ve never seen you in the pharmacy.” A creak of the floorboard, a shift in the spice rack. “I’ve been here often enough. Just not where you look.” The register chimed. “Cash or credit?” “Neither. Checking on the scones. Earl said they’re laced with thyme again.” “They’re not. He’s just bitter I chose juniper for the game pie.” “Game pie? In April? What’s in it, exactly?” “Rabbit. Fresh from the woods. You should try some—cleanses the palate.” A jar of preserved lemons trembled slightly as hands brushed past. “You’re lying about the rabbit. I saw the tracks. They were too small.” “Aren’t foxes adorable this time of year?” “More of a coyote, really. Hungrier. Less… domestic.” The oven timer beeped, saving the pause that followed. “Cherry pie’s ready. You want to take a slice?” “No. But maybe you’ll let me borrow your ladle? My own’s… missing.” “Again? That’s the third one this week.” “So you’ve said. Funny how things vanish around here. Pots, spoons, even Mrs. Harlow’s cat.” A shadow dipped behind the counter. “You’ll find it. Maybe in the same place as the lavender.” “The lavender?” “From the field behind the shop. You liked it—mentioned it yourself.” A faint clink of metal, the whisper of a sleeve over a sticky jar. “Useful for calming nerves. Or masking others.” Sunlight slanted sharper now, tracing the outline of the missing cat’s collar on a windowsill. The pie cooled, unnoticed.