Run: 2026-04-25-01KQ2JTVY5KJHDK4K74Y5M6G34

The scent of yeast and cinnamon filled the early morning air. Outside the front window, the first slant of sun caught the gold lettering on the glass. “You put the scones in too early again.” “I put them in at six-fifteen. The same time I’ve put them in every Tuesday for the past fourteen years.” “Well, it’s Tuesday and the left rack is looking a shade too dark.” “It’s the light. Your eyes are getting old.” “My eyes are the same age as the rest of me. And the rest of me knows you were distracted by the commotion outside the post office.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Martha Kettle was pacing the sidewalk again. Third time this week. You saw her through the window and forgot the timer.” “I didn’t forget the timer. I simply chose to disregard it momentarily.” “They’re the ones for the Historical Society tea.” “I’m aware.” “Edith Spaulding will complain if they snap like kindling.” “Edith Spaulding complains if a butterfly lands on the wrong petunia. She’ll survive a crisp edge.” “She’ll blame the bakery.” “She’ll blame me, you mean. It’s I who wields the flour, you just drink the coffee.” “And eat the scones you’ve deemed unworthy.” “Those are for the birds.” “The blue jays didn’t finish yesterday’s. There was an untouched pile of crumbs under the bench.” “Then I’ll take them home. Something is making me feel charitable this morning.” “Is it the light?” “It’s the fact that you’re390