Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5K9R2GYPJ9WDGTQYZB2Q5

The warm scent of cinnamon and yeast lingered in the air as Eleanor arranged scones on a rack. The bell above the door chimed, and Harold stepped in, his boots still dusted from the garden. “You’re early,” she said, reaching for a flour-dusted apron. “Had to pick up the usual. Mrs. Gable’s bake sale—” He paused, eyeing the display. “These look different.” “Different how?” “The glaze. It’s too thick. Like it’s been sitting out too long.” Harold picked up a muffin, inspecting it. “And where’s the lemon zest? You always add it.” Eleanor’s fingers tightened on the apron string. “Maybe I missed a batch.” “Missed? Eleanor, you’ve been baking those same muffins for twenty years. This one’s… off.” He set it down gently. “Like someone swapped the sugar for salt.” She didn’t answer. Instead, she reached for the register, her voice softer. “Tell me about the bake sale. What’s the theme this year?” Harold frowned. “Community. Unity. You know that. But the recipe card you gave Mrs. Gable—” He hesitated. “It had a note on the back. In your handwriting.” Eleanor’s knuckles went white. “I don’t remember writing that.” The oven behind her hummed, and somewhere, a door clicked shut.