Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKB0TAR8Q4EQD5KXBA5N1MH

Molly crouched behind a plastic flamingo, studying a living room that looked like a confetti bomb had matured into furniture. Streamers hung like neon cobwebs. A mound of gifts lounged under a cartoonish tree, glitter like a small island of crime. She flicked a small flashlight with the enthusiasm of a kid battery trying to be a grown-up adult. Bill shimmied in the doorway, balancing a folding ladder like a nervous giraffe. His grin was accidental and then decided. "We are definitely doing this," he whispered, too loud for whispering but not loud enough for conviction. "We are? Or you are?" Molly returned, not taking her eyes off a giant teddy that seemed legally separate from the rest of the loot. "It’s plural. I bought matching gloves." Bill held up a pair of gloves, sequined and apologetic. "Also, I rented a van with a polite horn." Molly snorted. "A van with personality. You're braver than the plan." Bill peeked around a beanbag. "How many kids downstairs?" "Two adults and a dog," Molly said, which was technically true. "Cake timer set for thirty minutes. Pinata triumph scheduled for twenty." "Excellent." Bill breathed like someone congratulating a stopwatch. "We go in, we distract, we extract under the guise of... balloon emergency?" Molly traced a path in dust with the tip of a shoe. "We pose as entertainment. You do balloon animals, I do magic tricks. The trick: make all the presents disappear." Bill's eyes became small, excited moons. "How do you make a present vanish without a rabbit and a suspiciously empty hat?" Molly winked. "Portable closet, skills, and a generous understanding of what 'gift exchange' means." They crept, a study in careful chaos. Molly practiced a flourish with a napkin while Bill rehearsed his surprised gasp. They synchronized watches like lovers of punctuality. A party-app song leaked through the walls and sounded exactly like triumph with a flute solo. "Countdown?" Bill asked. "Three," Molly said. "Two… we look ridiculous and that will help. One." They burst in like confetti superheroes, hands full of practiced cheer, offering unsuitable magic and anatomically optimistic balloon dachshunds. Children applauded at the entertainment and not the theft, which suited them perfectly. As Molly slid the first gift into a surprisingly accessible sleeve of her costume, Bill's sequined glove found its rhythm, and the van outside honked politely, as if it approved the plan. "Only twenty minutes till chaos. Grab the glitter bear and go now." Bill "If the dog winks, we abort. Also, there's cake. Don't eat it, seriously." Molly They moved with the practiced sloppy grace of amateur magicians, pockets full of ribbon and conscience conveniently misplaced under a party hat. Bill scooped the teddy, Molly zipped a stack of artfully wrapped books into a sack that smelled faintly of cheese. The dog thumped its tail like a metronome of suspicion, then sneezed glitter. Outside, the van sighed and the city accepted another harmless mischief in exchange for quiet holiday cheer. They drove off into questionable dignity.