Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYBAZFCZ1FFVNPDPT880FPW

The linoleum of Mabel’s Diner stuck to Molly’s scuffed boot as she stirred burnt coffee with a plastic spork, the grease-stained menu propped against a half-eaten slice of pie. Bill, slouched across the booth, twisted a chipped toy truck between his fingers—loot from their last failed heist, a lawn gnome stakeout that ended with a neighbor’s sprinkler drenching them. He’d taped a crumpled children’s party invite to the truck’s side, the glittery lettering smudged by rain. “Clown disguise’s non-negotiable. Kids love clowns—they’ll let me loiter by the gift table,” Bill said, poking a cracked rubber nose stuffed in his jacket pocket. “Clowns creep kids out. Last time you wore a costume, you got mistaken for a raccoon and chased by a terrier,” Molly retorted, tapping the invite’s bold warning: “Zoe’s 7th Birthday: Glitter, Pinatas, and Goat Petting Zoo.” Molly’s nail scraped the glitter note, her eyes narrowing at the goat petting zoo line. Bill’s face paint, bought from a discount bin, stained his fingers neon blue—a smudge still visible on his cheek from testing it that morning. He’d stuffed balloon animals into his backpack, their rubber squeaking every time he shifted in the booth. “I’ve mastered balloon animals. A dog-shaped distraction’ll keep the adults busy,” Bill said, puffing out his chest. “You can’t make a balloon dog. You made a lopsided snake that popped and made a toddler cry at the grocery store,” Molly said, pulling a crumpled note from her purse—intelligence from the kid she’d bribed with a lollipop, who’d told her the gift table was by the slide. The note detailed a napping grandmother guarding the table, her eyes glued to a telenovela whenever the pinata was hit. Molly had also learned the goat, named Bubbles, hated shiny things, a detail she’d circled twice in pencil. Bill huffed, shoving the toy truck into his pocket, his jacket rustling with the sound of the clown nose. “Glitter’s a problem. It’ll stick to our clothes—we’ll be traced for weeks,” Bill said, scratching at the neon blue smudge on his cheek. “Tape plastic bags over our clothes. And avoid Bubbles—she chases anyone with shiny accessories,” Molly said, tapping the glitter warning again. “I’ll remember—no shiny stuff near the goat,” Bill mumbled, nodding so hard his cap slipped over his eyes. Molly finished her coffee, crumpling the note and shoving it into her jacket. The diner’s bell jangled as a kid ran by, waving a balloon dog, and Bill flinched, knocking over his water glass. The water spilled onto the invite, smudging the glitter lettering further. Molly rolled her eyes, tossing a dollar on the counter. “Let’s go get your lopsided balloon snake supplies. And don’t forget the plastic bags—glitter’s a heist kryptonite.” They slouched out, Bill’s neon blue finger smudging the door handle as they left, the toy truck’s wheels scraping the linoleum behind them.