Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK97P1GCTXZ1B23KVSNGEXZ

They crouched behind a hedge shaped like a dinosaur that judged them with topiary disdain. Balloons bobbed above the community hall, each one a taunting thought bubble that read: Not yours. Molly adjusted a sequined beanie and squinted at the gift table visible through the window glare. Bill, armed with a clipboard that conferred dubious authority, practiced his most harmless smile until it creaked. A paper banner shouted HAPPY BIRTHDAY in letters so loud even the ants wore party hats. "Masks on, Bill; think sprinkles." "Sprinkles aren't stealth, Molly; confetti?" They had cased weddings, art shows, and once a beekeeper's picnic, but this, this was chaos with frosting. Behind the glass, pint-sized gladiators circled a cake like a sacred relic, guardians sworn by sugar. Parents orbited in exhausted ellipses, their coffee cups describing small, shaky moons. "Clown shoes distract witnesses; priceless." Bill checked the schedule he had entirely invented; it listed Cake O'Clock and a ceremonial piñata weep. The plan was simple the way a Rube Goldberg daydream is simple: arrive, cart every present away, exit, pretend nothing happened. "Fine; we improvise, grab bows." Molly tugged a ribbon from her pocket, then another, until she looked less criminal than tumbleweed.