Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2HDDYWJV4V965J59GCH7HV

The scent of fresh cinnamon rolls curled through the air, cozy and warm, a stark contrast to the chill that had settled over the knitting circle’s usual corner table. “You’d think the mayor would have better sense than to accuse Francine of tampering with his bear claw. In her own bakery, for heaven’s sake.” “The man’s stomach turned sour, that’s all. He’s been eating his feelings since the election. Besides, everyone knows Francine only adds almonds, never arsenic.” A soft clink of a coffee cup meeting its saucer punctuated the pause. Through the display case glass, a row of glazed donuts stared blankly out at the empty sidewalk. “Nostalgia is a funny thing, isn’t it? He swore it tasted exactly like the one he had the day before his first heart attack. A warning, he called it.” “The only warning I see is a three-time chili cook-off champion who forgot he developed a nut allergy last spring. His wife told the book club. He carries an epi-pen now, tucked inside that ridiculous ten-gallon hat.” “Perhaps. But why would Francine bolt the back door and leave her reading glasses on the counter, right next to a spatula coated in almond paste?”