Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ5BV5Y1M3KS2F53A9DV61R

The bell above the bakery door chimed, letting in a gust of autumn air along with the town's retired postmaster. "Smells like cinnamon rolls in here." "Just took them out. The usual?" "Make it two today. I'm meeting Margaret." "Interesting. She doesn't usually come in on Tuesdays." "She doesn't usually find strange notes in her mailbox either." "Notes?" "Plural. Three days running. No signature, no return address. Just strange little poems about the lighthouse." "Poems about the lighthouse? That's peculiar." "Margaret thinks someone's been going up there at night. Says she saw lights when she walked Boris past the point." "Probably just kids. Or the Henderson boy with his telescope." "At two in the morning?" "Point taken. So she wants to investigate?" "She wants to go up there tonight. Asked if I'd come along." "You said yes, didn't you." "Had to. She's got that bad hip, and the path's steep." "Be careful. And bring these cinnamon rolls. Might as well have something nice if you're going looking for trouble." The postmaster tucked the paper bag under his arm and winked. "When did I ever go looking for trouble?" "Tuesday, usually."