Run: 2026-07-25-01KYD7DGVSYF8EYMJP4NS5SPB9

The bell above the door jingled, but he didn’t look up from the dough. “You’re early.” “Had to return the scone tray. Someone’s been leaving… odd things in the display case.” His hands stilled. “What kind of things?” “Cookies shaped like… I don’t know, *fingers*. With a note. Said ‘sweet enough to make you forget.’” A low whistle. “That’s Mrs. Gable’s handwriting.” “She’s been baking those cinnamon twists for forty years. Why would she—” “Because she’s not the one who taught me how to make them.” He wiped flour on his apron. “Someone’s been slipping her recipes into the trash.” The door chimed again. A third person entered, humming. They all froze. “Morning, Mr. Hendershot,” the newcomer said, nodding at the baker. “Mrs. Gable asked me to pick up her special order. Said it’s… important.” The baker’s knuckles whitened around the rolling pin. “Tell her I’m busy.” “Busy with what?” “The usual.”