Run: 2026-05-10-01KR92FB5PF21000D32XYPDVAQ

The shop bell chimed, shivering against the scent of toasted oats and cinnamon. Sunlight slanted through the front window, catching the fine mist of flour still hanging in the air from the morning rush. "It’s gone." "Well, things don't just walk out of a locked pantry, do they?" "I checked the latch myself last night. It was firm. Now, there’s nothing but a ring of crumbs on the bottom shelf." "Perhaps a mouse?" "A mouse with a taste for heirloom vanilla bean paste? And the strength to slide a heavy ceramic jar aside? Hardly." "Then we have a ghost with a sweet tooth. Or something far worse." "Don’t joke. Not when the bake sale is tomorrow. If those tarts aren't finished, the mayor will have my head on a platter." "Then stop hovering by the ovens and start looking at the floorboards. If someone came in, they had to track in that red clay from the creek path." "Red clay inside? On my clean tiles?" "Look. By the back door. Tiny, frantic prints. And they aren't human." "Lord save us. If that mangy stray has found the secret supply again, I’m locking the pantry for good."