Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAJVJTAENYDWP7FAHMHMYS

Molly picks at a cherry lollipop pilfered from a corner store, eyes pinned to the neon “Birthday Bash!” banner fluttering above the community center’s double doors. Bill shifts beside her on the splintered park bench, adjusting the empty canvas duffel slung over his shoulder, his scuffed sneaker scuffing a crumpled fairy-tale party hat into the dandelion-strewn grass. “You sure the piñata’s not a better side score?” Bill whispers, leaning in. “Presents have cash cards—piñatas have stale candy corn,” Molly retorts, popping the lollipop back in her mouth. He glares at the distant squealing kids, then at his frayed cuffs. “When’s the cake distraction kicking in?” Bill asks, fidgeting with his duffel strap. “The baker’s late—she’ll barge in yelling about a flavor mix-up in 10 minutes,” Molly says. He sighs softly before glancing back at the center’s side entrance. “What if kids spot us sneaking in?” Bill mutters. “We’ll pose as the clown’s lost assistants,” Molly smirks. “I hate clowns—their big shoes creep me out,” Bill groans. She tosses the crumpled lollipop stick into a bush, stands, and nods firmly at the rusted side entrance; Bill hesitates, then follows, duffel swinging as distant high-pitched laughter echoes through the warm afternoon air.