Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCTNG7XWWGCV1V1XNAJ9GWP

The bell above the bakery door chimed, letting in a breeze that carried the smell of cinnamon. "You're here for the cruller, not the small talk." "Can't I have both? Your glaze is the only thing sweeter than your attitude." "Flatterer. One old-fashioned?" "And maybe one of those jam-filled ones. The raspberry?" "Out by noon, as always. You townies sleep too late." "I'm not town—I'm from the library board. We discuss books, not dough." "Yet here you are, in line for carbohydrates." "Research. I'm comparing local businesses for our newsletter." "Uh-huh. You were here Tuesday too." "That was for the sourdough. This is for science." The mixer whirred in back, steady as a heartbeat. Outside, a dog barked at a pickup truck. "You hear about Mr. Halloway's shed?" "Burned? No." "Not burned—emptied. Every jar of honey, gone. Door wasn't forced." "Bees don't steal." "Exactly." The bag crinkled as she tied it with twine. "On the house. For your 'research.'" "You're bribing a civil servant." "I'm feeding a regular. Big difference." "Then I'll be back Thursday. For the blueberry scones." "See that you are. And wear a jacket—rain's coming."