Run: 2026-11-11-01M7555FD96FPJK3E0G3Z4X451

Rain tapped the bakery windows as the morning trays came out, and the bell over the door tinkled. Warm sugar and yeast hung in the air, and the lemon curd glistened under glass. Outside, Maple Street was quiet except for Mrs. Finch's bicycle. "You're early." "The oat latte was calling my name." "Liar. You heard about the delivery?" "I heard everything. And I heard you let Mrs. Finch take the last lemon tart again." "She bakes for the church. She deserves a tart." "She also bakes for the church. She has two." "Fine. She can have two. Did you see who left this by the flour?" A folded note, smudged with cinnamon, lay beside the register. "No. Who?" "Handwriting like a cobweb. It reads, 'Ask about Tuesday, before the lights go out.'" "Tuesday? The power cut?" "That's what I thought. And look underneath." Tiny poppy seeds, arranged in a perfect circle. "Mother used to do that when something was... lost." "Lost? Or taken?" "Either way, we don't tell the sheriff yet." "You think it's serious?" "I think it's Tuesday, with poppy seeds involved." "When do we tell him?" "After you eat a cardamom roll. If any are left." "There's one. For you." "Then we're in business."