Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAMP41E98X9XYCGC0A869E

The neon glow of the party balloon arch pulsed like a drunk firefly outside the window, its reflection dancing across the sticky floorboards of Molly’s hideout—a converted storage closet beneath a failing toy store. Bill leaned against the wall, licking a lollipop that had somehow survived the last job, its wrapper crinkling like a guilty conscience. A map of the party venue, scribbled on a napkin, sprawled across the table between them, dotted with X’s that looked suspiciously like the locations of the most *unfun* games. “Alright, listen,” Molly said, tapping the napkin with her fingernail—each one filed into a sharp, thieving point. “We go in through the kitchen. Bill, you’re on piñata duty. If anyone asks, you’re just there to *admire* the decorations. I’ll be the ‘lost aunt’ who ‘forgot her keys’ and ‘needs to check the diaper bag.’ Classic.” Bill wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of red on the table. “What if the kid’s mom is *that* mom? The one who *knows*?” Molly grinned, her teeth flashing like a trapdoor about to spring. “Then we’re stealing from the *best* kind of people—those who’ll never notice a thing until it’s too late. And Bill?” She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “If we’re caught, we blame the clown.” Bill’s lollipop bobbed as he nodded. “Deal. But if I see a single *cupcake* in my path, I’m eating it.” Molly sighed, rolling her eyes. “You’re a menace, Bill. A *delicious* menace.” She grabbed a pair of scissors from the table, twirling them between her fingers. “Let’s move. The cake’s cutting starts in forty-five minutes.”