Run: 2026-09-02-01M1HATTCKQD27M5SXZW8Q46PY

The bell over Betty’s Bakery chimed, stirring cinnamon dust into the gray morning light. Clara entered, shaking rain from her umbrella, and found the display case half empty except for one lopsided blackberry tart. “Funny, I called ahead for the last one.” The baker emerged from the back, flour on her apron and a smudge of something darker across her wrist. “Sold it ten minutes ago.” “Then why is it still in the window?” A silver fork scraped against porcelain behind the counter. The baker didn’t look toward the sound. “Window’s for display.” “Display doesn’t usually have a bite missing.” The baker wiped her hands, slow circles, as if polishing away a fingerprint. “You notice everything, don’t you?” “Occupational hazard. I also notice the register’s open.” “Small towns. People trust.” “People also lock their doors.” Outside, a car door slammed. The baker’s gaze jumped to the glass, then back, softer now. “Take the tart. On the house.” Clara leaned closer. Beneath the sugar glaze, a tiny scrap of lavender ribbon clung to the crust. “I’ll take it. And the name of whoever was here before me.” The oven timer began to ring, shrill as a warning.