Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKAP7APM5DJ8EJH0V1BXDQ4

They huddled behind a bouncy castle catalog in a laundromat that smelled like citrus and second chances. Molly tapped a pen against schematics of a suburban backyard, where sprinklers arced like lasers with bad posture. Bill weighed a sack of ribbons as though testing currency. The target was a riot of frosting, helium, and gullible generosity, timed between cake and tantrum. Invitations promised a magician, which in their world meant a smoke screen on retainer. "Masks on, hearts off. Remember: dash, grab, vanish." Bill nodded, counting cupcakes in the flyer the way generals count bridges. Each present was color coded in his notes: dinosaurs for speed, dolls for silence, books for ballast, socks for morale. He had drawn a tiny grappling hook labeled Etiquette. Molly rehearsed smiles in the dryer door, practicing the universal expression for Responsible Aunt. "If they cry, we pivot to clown mode and juggle alibis." He produced two kazoos, the last resort of scoundrels courting respectability. The getaway wagon was a borrowed stroller with squeaky wheels and a fake nap. The map’s X sat beneath a piñata, which felt like professional courtesy. Molly closed the catalog. "Deal." Outside, sprinklers rehearsed. Night bent low, eavesdropping on mischief.