Run: 2026-04-27-01KQ72Q55Y85ZC51C8MXQTV5PJ

The bell chimed as the door shut behind the stranger. Flour hung heavy in the warm air. "Closed until noon," I called from behind the counter, not looking up from the ledger. "You're always closed until noon when you need to think." I set the pencil down. The screen door hadn't opened. The stranger stood by the display case, tapping a gloved finger against the glass. "Think about what? The sourdough shortage?" "The missing tip jar. Third one this month. They don't just walk away, Martha. They take memories." My grip tightened on the pen. The scent of burnt rosemary filled the room. Someone had left the oven too high. "What do you want me to say? I was in the back washing sheets. The camera caught nothing but shadows." "Shadows with a limp. You know who uses crutches these days. Everyone does, but only one man walks behind the glass doors now." "It's a mistake. Has to be." "Or you're feeding the wrong kind of beast. Check the flour sacks. I bet they're lighter than usual." I swallowed hard. The timer buzzed. Rosemary scones were burning. "Don't tell him I was here. He's watching the post office." "I never tell. But Martha? That isn't rosemary on the counter. That's lavender. You haven't baked lavender since the fire burned down Miller's shed." Silence stretched tight as the cooling racks. The bell didn't chime again.