Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2DT14A6H0B5Q0Q4CRWTBF2

The warm scent of cinnamon and yeast wrapped around them like a well-worn quilt, a sharp contrast to the chill that had settled in the corner booth. A half-eaten bear claw sat abandoned on a floral plate. “She always did have a sweet tooth. Drove all the way from Cloverdale for Millie’s almond croissants every Tuesday. Like clockwork.” “Until she didn’t. The last time I saw her, she bought a dozen oatmeal raisin. Said they were for a meeting of the garden club.” “But the garden club meets on Wednesdays. And Ethel was allergic to raisins. Wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole. Broke out in hives just looking at them.” A long pause was filled only by the gurgle of the coffee machine. A finger traced the rim of a chipped mug, following the faded roses painted there. “So, who was she really buying them for? The police found the bag in her kitchen, unopened. Not a single crumb missing.” “Millie mentioned a man came in with her that day. A stranger. Paid with cash. Wore a ridiculously bright yellow scarf, even though it was seventy degrees out.” The bell over the door jingled, and both heads turned. A gust of autumn air sent a few loose receipts fluttering to the checkered floor. The figure in the doorway unwound a garish, mustard-yellow scarf.