Under a crescent moon, Molly crouched beside Bill at the edge of the Johnsons’ manicured lawn. A string of pastel balloons bobbed in the breeze against the white picket fence. Inside, muffled laughter and the clatter of toy cars hinted at the children’s party in full swing. Molly folded her arms and gave Bill a withering look. Her smile twitching. “Molly,” Bill whispered, “is it really worth it?” “Absolutely,” she grinned, “All those shiny gifts under that tree? Jackpot.” Bill’s eyes darted. “Need a distraction.” He lifted a finger, silencing Molly’s grin. The wind rustled through hedges, and a collie’s bark echoed from a yard. Through a window she could spot the cake table loaded with cupcakes and a suspiciously large lopsided caterpillar cake. Every balloon shimmered with promise. Molly checked the digital timer strapped to Bill’s wrist. “Three minutes until the parents bring out the piñata,” she murmured. Bill nodded in the shadow. They were virtually home free—if they could avoid the guard dog. “Time’s ticking,” Molly hissed. “We sneak in, snag the stack of presents, and vanish before anyone notices.” Bill licked lips. “Then we split the haul.” Below the weathered deck, a tiny yellow extension cord snaked toward an outdoor outlet. Bill tapped the lockpick against his elbow, then slid it into the latch. The wood creaked and Molly winced. A spotlight flickered on the house’s rear wall. She pressed a finger to her lips as children’s squeals softly drifted in. Bill cursed and twisted, finally clicking the padlock open. Molly stealthily stepped forward, pulling a long bag from her jacket. It smelled faintly of burnt popcorn. “We’re in,” Bill whispered. “All we must do is load the bag, reverse course, and vanish before anyone spots us.” Molly smirked. “Quietly and quickly.” They slipped through the window like silhouettes. The room smelled of frosting and giggles. Beneath a streamer-choked table, gift boxes spilled confetti. Bill’s shoulder brushed a mobile of glittering unicorns, producing gentle tinkle. Molly ducked, pressing the bag open. Bright wrapping paper waited for folding, bows begging to be stolen. “We need more arms,” Bill joked, “or maybe an extra Molly clone.” Molly grinned. “One of me is enough. You just grab, then I’ll stash.” With meticulous care, Bill slid a toy drum into the bag first. Molly added a stack of board games, wincing as the edges caught in the zipper. A tattered teddy bear nestled beside plush dinosaurs. Outside, the collie’s bark grew louder. She glimpsed light under the door. Bill hissed a warning. Just one more gift. “Bill,” Molly whispered, “that light’s from Mrs. Johnson’s phone. Homeowner on feed.” Bill peeked. “We hit the power box then bolt.” Molly nodded, teeth clenched. Silence returned as the lights flickered off. Their silhouettes merged with midnight shadows—free and invisible. “Did you grab everything?” Molly asked, voice trembling. Bill stroked his chin. “Except the gnome yard ornament. Worth a fortune on eBay.” Molly rolled eyes. They melted into darkness, triumph glittering behind their crooked smiles.