As Molly and Bill inched closer to their quest – stealing from a children's party – their troves' would surely swell like a summer storm. With swift and careful movements, they said nary a word, always needing each other's fearless exertion. The gates leading to the bash stood ajar with sky blue trim and overembellished with a quaint arch encircled by candy canes that sparkled in the sun. Stained glass painted with frolicking fairies danced on the inside wall as they entered unnoticed. Children in glee finished their games, spilled their artificial tears in laughter, and overindulged on sugar with frenzied passion. Hiding where the gentle and the youngest once danced, they plotted their heist, knotted ropes over their crowns like a sly fox would bear its tail. The little hearts would snooze, blissful from the din, allowing a window – a tad larger than a bun. Each took the task to its extremes, one handling the stealth, the other the gets. Their positions switched involuntarily with each planned move like the heliotropic leaves that turned sunwards. They were in sync without a word, each with one another, because, in their world, words needed the least explanation. "Now, Bill, the time has come. We mustn't linger any longer." And so, with swiftness their heist became an uncloaked dance, swiping every delight and ruggedly leaving the walls unscathed. They left merry laughter and a job well done transmuted with post-heist giggles. Their escape incognito, their plan was a masterwork that whispered stealth across doorways. And rather than the screams they expected, they left with ringing silence – a medley of whispers left unattended. The perfect crime can happen in a dance, a mime, or even at a children's party. And akin a silent dance, their growing laughter echoed as they left the theater of the happy. Perhaps they'll return, to retrieve their stakes.