Run: 2026-09-02-01M1HHK5DQPM9TZDQD5A2S0W2V

Morning rain tapped the bakery windows, fogging the glass and blurring the streetlamp outside. The kettle had just begun to sing when the bell over the door jingled. A soaked wool coat left a damp print on the flour-dusted mat. “Your lemon drizzle is in the case. It’s the only thing I baked today.” “I didn’t come for cake.” “You’re standing next to it, though.” “Someone’s been reading my letters.” The woman behind the counter paused, then wiped a streak of sugar from the marble slab. “Here? In a bakery, letters are easier to read than scones.” “This one mentioned the old mill. The ledger is still hidden there.” “If you’re writing mystery novels, keep the drafts in a drawer.” “I’m not writing. The handwriting is mine, but I never sent them.” “Then you have two choices. Go home and sleep, or sit and tell me who wants you to think the mill is haunted.” The customer unwound a scarf from the chair and sat. Flour motes drifted in the lamplight as the espresso machine clicked awake. The kettle whistled. Outside, a black umbrella crossed the square and vanished around the bakery’s side entrance. “I think it wants the recipe.”