Run: 2026-10-09-01M4FZYR0SW8R6BNPB61C4CCBB

“Two croissants, one black coffee, and a slice of the lemon thing,” the woman said, sliding a crumpled bill across the counter. “Did you bake the lemon thing this morning?” “Same as every morning. Four a.m., before the sun even thinks about showing up.” Flour dusted the baker's forearms. “Why? Something wrong with it?” “Depends. Did you notice the back door was open when you came in?” “Open? No. I locked it last night, same as always. Mrs. Hadley's been after me about the lock since the sugar tins went missing.” “Well, it wasn't locked this morning. And there's a smear of blue frosting on the handle.” “Blue? I don't do blue this week. Only the lemon and the cinnamon swirls.” “Exactly. Someone else was in your kitchen, and they had blue frosting on their fingers.” A long silence. The bell over the door jingled as a child burst in, then backed out again when the room went quiet. “Hand me that cloth,” the baker said finally. “And tell me what else you noticed, Dorothy. Because I have a feeling the lemon thing isn't the only thing that's gone sour in this town.”