Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD5SMJRW1JN56E0P40C5SHN

The early morning air in Mabel’s Bakery carried the weight of cinnamon and possibility. Flour dusted the counter as the baker, apron smudged, shaped a perfect apple turnover. The bell above the door jingled. “Any luck with the sourdough starter?” The baker’s hands stilled. “Still waiting for the mail.” “The *town’s* starter. The one that’s been here since ’72.” A flicker crossed the baker’s face—guilt, maybe. “Someone’s bringing it back. Said it was in the wrong place.” “Wrong place?” “Didn’t need to be here, did it?” The baker’s voice dropped. “But it’s not mine to question.” The customer leaned closer, eyes narrowing. “You think I’m the thief?” “No. I think you’re the one who *knows* where it is.” A chair scraped as the customer stood, leaving a croissant on the counter. “Then why’s the oven still cold?” The baker’s smile didn’t reach their eyes. “Some things rise better in the dark.” Outside, the first customer of the day approached the window, squinting at the empty display case.