Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY83JDX91S2FP0R0R61K1Y2

The neon glow of a flickering "Happy Birthday!" balloon cast long shadows across the backyard as Molly adjusted the strap of her satchel, her breath fogging in the crisp evening air. Bill leaned against the fence, twirling a lockpick between his fingers like a lollipop. "Alright, *partner*," Bill drawled, "we’re about to pull off the heist of the century—or at least the heist of the *neighborhood*." Molly smirked, nudging a small, suspiciously shiny box with her boot. "Oh, I *love* when you talk big. That’s the box of fireworks we’re supposed to be stealing, right? The ones that’ll make the whole block think Santa’s got a side hustle." Bill grinned. "Exactly. And once we’ve got those, we’re outta here before the parents realize their kids’ dreams are now our problems." "Uh-huh. And how exactly are we getting in?" Molly asked, eyeing the house with the skepticism of someone who’d once tried to hotwire a lawnmower. Bill pulled a key from his pocket—shiny, new, and suspiciously *not* his own. "This little beauty? Stolen from the neighbor’s tool shed. Said he lost it. I said, *‘Lost? More like left it in your back pocket while you were crying over your divorce.’*" Molly raised an eyebrow. "You *talked* to the neighbor?" "Implied. Very subtly. Like a ghost. A *very* convincing ghost." She sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you for *not* checking if the key actually worked." Bill held up his hands. "Hey, I *did* check. It turned. Twice. In my pocket." Molly groaned. "You’re *insufferable*." "Yeah, yeah. But you love me." Bill winked, then sobered. "Look, the plan’s simple. We slip in, grab the presents, and—" "—and what?" Molly interrupted. "Just *vanish* like magic? Because last time we tried that, we ended up in a tree." Bill waved a hand. "Details. The point is, we move fast. No screaming. No running. Just *stealth*." Molly adjusted her gloves. "And if the kids start asking where their presents went?" Bill shrugged. "Tell ‘em Santa’s got a *very* busy schedule. Or that they’re ‘early birthday gifts’ from the Tooth Fairy’s cousin. Whatever. Kids believe anything." Molly smirked. "You’re terrible at this." "Nah, I’m *good* at this." Bill grinned, pulling out a tiny flashlight. "See? I even brought a *distraction*—just in case." Molly peeked at it. "A *glow stick*?" "Yep. Classic. Shake it, they’ll all stop talking to stare at the *magic*." Molly shook her head. "You’re a menace." Bill laughed, nudging her shoulder. "Come on, Molly. One last job, then we’re done. No more heists. No more *almost* getting caught. Just… normal life." Molly hesitated, then smirked. "Yeah, right. Like you’d ever *stop*." Bill grinned. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m telling everyone you were the one who suggested we break into a *children’s party*." Molly laughed, nudging him back. "Deal. Now let’s go steal some dreams before someone else does." Bill adjusted his hat, then led the way, whispering, "Remember—no screaming. No running. And *definitely* no talking to the neighbors." Molly rolled her eyes. "You’re impossible." Bill just chuckled, slipping through the fence like a shadow. "Yeah, but you love me."