Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAHTSKTMR0XNGHNZ7A8GJ1

Night hung over the suburbs like a tired curtain. Molly and Bill crouched behind a folded pickup at the end of Maple Street, their disguises ready: Molly’s scarf of cartoon reindeer; Bill’s bowler hat that looked suspiciously official, as if borrowed from a charity drive. “Ready?” Molly whispered. “As I’ll ever be,” Bill whispered back, adjusting the hat. “We are breaking into a children’s party to steal all the presents,” Molly said, as if announcing a weather forecast. “We should be careful with timing and holiday cheer.” “Timing is everything,” Bill agreed. “Two o’clock on Saturday. Sunnyvale Community Hall. Balloons, cake, and a squeaky door that sounds like a chorus of impatient ducks.” “Describe the target,” Molly demanded. “Back room full of gifts,” Bill said. “Presents stacked like igloos. A mountain of wrapping paper and gooey stickers.” “Okay,” Molly said. “And the plan?” “We walk in as volunteers,” Bill offered, like a magician revealing his trick. “We pretend to know where the punch bowl is.” “That would be a lie,” Molly pointed out. “Only if they ask,” Bill grinned. “We stash a cart in the service corridor, load the loot, and disappear between the babysitters.” “That seems risky,” Molly muttered. “Security?” “Two cake stands and a punch table,” Bill replied. “We distract, we glide, we move, and we hope a chorus of children doesn’t notice five seconds of missing presents.” “Glide,” Molly repeated, eyes widening. “You’re proposing glide with a cart full of prizes? Elegant and impractical.” “Elegance is essential,” Bill said solemnly. “Now the alibi: we claim we are doing market research on party favors.” “You call it research,” Molly said, “I call it questionable adventure.” Bill shrugged, smiling. “Whatever keeps them calm.” “Fine,” Molly said, softening. “What about a decoy?” “Face painting,” Bill said. “Kids come for the art, not the loot. We misdirect with a smile and a stencil.” Molly laughed. “A stencil of a magnifying glass. That would be timely and suspicious in all the right ways.” “Nice,” Bill said. “And the getaway plan?” “Back door, delivery alley,” Molly replied. “We meet the car, we vanish, we pretend to discuss the weather to avoid suspicion.” “Well, weather talk,” Bill nodded. “Perfect alibi.” “Okay,” Molly concluded. “We do this clean, quick, and leave them with the impression we were never there.” “And if we fail,” Bill teased, “we blame the glitter.” “Glitter,” she echoed, rolling her eyes. “Let’s go.” They rose from the curb, stepping into the pale glow of the streetlight, hands brushing, a chorus of distant laughter behind them, and a plan that sounded simple until it collided with the unpredictable magic of a kids’ party, balloons, and one overconfident duo who believed they could steal joy and possibly get away with it in a single afternoon.