Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7QFT8ZZC4H7QGK9HEV1VX

The park bench creaked. Molly twirled a loose thread on her coat, staring at the house across the street where a "Welcome to Lily’s 5th!" banner flapped like a warning. Bill picked at a scab on his thumb, his lock-pick set jiggling in his pocket. "You’re sure the presents are in the garage?" he muttered. "Mrs. Higgins said they’re ‘too many to carry inside’—but c’mon, a 5-year-old’s birthday? Ribbons? Glitter?" "Glitter’s a feature, not a bug," Molly said, flipping a piece of gum. "Little girls *love* glitter. But the presents? Stuffed animals, art sets—easy to tuck into a backpack. The cake’s a decoy. Overrated. Too much frosting. Messy. Not worth the risk." Bill sighed. "Risk? We’re stealing from a kid. What if she cries?" Molly scoffed. "She’ll cry when I take her ‘World’s Okayest Big Sister’ mug. That’s *vintage*. Anyway, you go in through the side door. I’ll ‘borrow’ the piñata guy’s clipboard—pretend to be the caterer. You grab the biggest box, hit the back porch. I’ll meet you at the willow tree with the loot. And if you sing ‘Happy Birthday’ off-key, I’m leaving you to face the clown." "The clown’s *scarier*," Bill said. "He gives those ‘hugs’ that feel like bear traps." Molly grinned. "Perfect. Let him ‘hug’ you. Distraction. Now go. Save the teddy bears from a life of being played with." Bill slung a backpack over his shoulder. "Teddy bears are already played with. What about the science kit?" "Science kit’s a win. Engineering. Future heist material." "Deal. But if the dog barks—" "The dog’s a golden retriever. It thinks your cat-claw gloves are a new toy." Bill pulled open the gate. "You’re impossible." "And you’re *here*. Now move." He walked away, muttering. She waited, watching the balloons. Time to make some magic—stolen magic.