Run: 2026-09-03-01M1K5Q3W7W92KZGVXESAK9K8D

The bell above Sweet Crumb Bakery jingled as rain tapped the windows. Warm cinnamon and butter hung in the air, fogging the glass cases full of morning buns and cherry tarts. "You're out of blueberry scones again? But it's only nine." "Someone bought a dozen just before you came in. Left crumbs everywhere, in a hurry." "That makes three days in a row. Doesn't that seem odd to you?" "Everything seems odd to you since you started that true crime podcast." "Listen, Mrs. Harlow orders one scone every Friday for ten years, then suddenly someone clears the tray at eight-fifty? And yesterday the apple cake vanished too." "Maybe folks are just hungry with this cold snap. Can I get you a cranberry muffin instead? It's still warm." "Did you see who it was this morning? Car? Coat? Anything?" "Just a gray hood, head down. Paid cash. Didn't even take a bag. Who buys twelve scones with no bag?" "A person who doesn't plan on eating them. Or sharing them." "Now you're being dramatic. The oven timer's about to go off, hold on." "Wait— is that almond extract? I thought you stopped using almond after Mr. Finch's allergy scare." "Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no."