Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY934N3MKDMV1KXCT94GENM

The neon glow of the party store’s sign flickered like a dying firefly as Molly adjusted her oversized bow tie, the plastic crinkling under her fingers. Bill crouched beside her on the fire escape, his gloved hands already picking at the lock on the side door. The air smelled like sugar and glitter, a scent that usually made him gag, but tonight it was just another obstacle to overcome—like a particularly sticky security guard. “You sure this is the right place?” Molly whispered, though she already knew the answer. She’d spent the last three hours memorizing the party’s guest list, which had been left conveniently on the counter at the bakery next door. “Because if we’re wrong, we’re gonna look like a couple of perverts crashing a kids’ birthday.” Bill didn’t look up from the lock. “We’re not perverts. We’re *opportunists*. And this is the *perfect* opportunity.” A sharp *click* echoed through the alley, and the door swung open just enough for him to slip inside. “Besides, who’s gonna miss a few presents when there’s cake and piñatas involved?” Molly followed, her boots squeaking on the linoleum floor. The party was in full swing—laughter and shrieks of delight filled the air as she stepped into the main room. Balloons bobbed like drunk jellyfish, and a table groaned under the weight of wrapped gifts. A piñata, shaped like a cartoon dinosaur, swung lazily from the ceiling, its paper teeth grinning down at them. “Okay, new problem,” Molly muttered, eyeing the crowd. “We’re gonna have to move fast. And quietly. And not look like we’re about to rob a kindergarten.” Bill was already scanning the room, his gaze landing on a woman in a sparkly leotard herding a group of kids toward a craft table. “Easy. We’ll play it cool. Grab a few presents, maybe ‘accidentally’ knock over a cupcake stand—” “—and blame it on the birthday boy,” Molly finished, nodding. “Classic. Also, we’re gonna need bags. Lots of bags.” Bill pulled a duffel from his coat pocket and tossed it to her. “Already thought of that. Also, I brought snacks.” He held up a bag of gummy worms. “For morale.” Molly caught the bag and immediately popped one into her mouth. “You’re a genius.” A child’s voice piped up from nearby. “Mommy, why is that lady eating worms?” Molly froze, her face splitting into what she hoped was a friendly smile. “Oh, these? They’re *birthday* worms! Special edition. Only for the coolest kids.” She held out the bag. “Want one?” The child hesitated, then snatched a worm and shoved it into her mouth. Her mother, distracted by a group of parents arguing over who forgot to bring the juice boxes, didn’t even glance their way. Bill grinned. “Smooth. You should stick to conning kids.” “Shut up and help me with these presents,” Molly hissed, already stacking a tower of wrapped boxes into the duffel. “And try not to look like you’re stealing from Santa.” Bill reached for a particularly large gift—something shaped suspiciously like a tablet—when a small hand grabbed his sleeve. “Excuse me, mister. Is that for me?” Bill blinked down at the toddler, who was staring up at him with wide, trusting eyes. “Uh. Yeah. For you. Happy birthday.” The toddler beamed. “Thank you!” And with that, he toddled off to show his new “present” to his friends. Molly burst out laughing. “You just gave away the *iPad*.” Bill shrugged. “Worth it. Now we don’t have to deal with the kid crying when we take it.” A loud *CRASH* echoed from the kitchen, followed by a woman’s scream. Molly and Bill exchanged a glance. “New plan,” Molly said, grabbing Bill’s arm. “We go *now*.” They bolted for the side door, duffel in tow, just as the party’s organizer came running in, her hair in disarray. “Did you see who did that?!” Bill waved cheerfully. “Not us! We were just—uh—helping with the presents!” Molly yanked him toward the exit. “We’ll explain later!” They didn’t look back as they vanished into the night, the duffel heavy with stolen joy and the faint sound of a child’s laughter following them down the alley.