Run: 2026-02-16-01KHK9KVCW89PKEZQGMTWTM98H

Rain freckled the Party Palace windows, a soft drumming that made the plastic banners shiver, while Molly and Bill crouched over a crumpled flyer on a food court table. The ice cream kiosk hissed beside them. Children in glitter shoes ricocheted past, sugar-drunk meteors, and somewhere, a DJ tested a siren that politely apologized afterward. "We’re really going to crash a birthday and liberate every bow-covered rectangle in sight?" "Language, Bill; we are performing a socially adjacent gift migration under controlled whimsy." "I brought courage and antacids, but my soul still squeaks like wet balloons." "Squeaks translate as festive enthusiasm; if anyone asks, you’re just auditioning for the confetti." "What if a mother eyes me and detects felony through sheer maternal sonar?" "Smile like an apologetic cupcake and say you’re here to assist in ribbon logistics." "Ribbon logistics sounds like my college minor, right between Panic Studies and Avoidance." "Perfect; your expertise qualifies you to compliment packages until they enter our portable universe." "And how does a package enter our portable universe without, you know, gravity noticing?" "We enact benevolent pageantry: exaggerated wows, a kazoo solo, then casual relocation toward destiny." "You keep saying destiny like it’s a duffel bag with excellent posture." "Destiny loves posture; so do reception committees, which we shall not encounter if we sparkle." Molly flipped the flyer, revealing a maze of cartoon arrows promising Bounce Zone Euphoria and Cupcake Hour. Bill drummed nervous rhythms on the table with a plastic spoon. A balloon bop sounded nearby, like a muffled idea popping before it could introduce itself to anyone. "Do we actually sparkle, or is this metaphorical twinkle endorsed by management?" "Metaphorical with backup stickers; if cornered, we present Hello, I’m Helpful badges." "If they ask who sent Helpful, I’ll panic and say destiny again, louder." "Louder sells confidence; also, hold something vaguely official, perhaps a clipboard wearing glitter." "I knew glitter was dangerous; it turns any noun into a plausible authority." "Exactly; if questioned, we murmur 'inventory' and squint at the horizon of possibility." "This still feels like robbing joy from tiny shoes and their bewildered laces." "We return some later by anonymous mail; think of us as emotional boomerangs." "Anonymous mail requires handwriting, and my handwriting looks like a chicken lament." "Perfect camouflage; nobody suspects the penitent poultry." "If there’s a magician, we move during the gasp; otherwise, cake song?" "Yes; applause fogs attention, frosting fogs ethics, and we drift like benevolent helium." "What about a lookout with the power of stern squinting and a Bluetooth?" "We counter-squint and compliment their shirt as if rescuing it from self-doubt." "I am not morally prepared to weaponize compliments, Molly." "You’re not weaponizing; you’re moisturising the atmosphere with upscale kindness." "Fine; I’ll moisturise, you migrate, destiny postures, everybody inhales confetti." They stood, rehearsing smiles that could pass as charitable emergencies. Outside the Party Palace doors, rain brightened the pavement to a mirror; in it they watched themselves become brighter: two reflections, resolute, walking toward music like permission.