Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8V5YN678FVKKVJ4516KR43

Molly and Bill crouched behind the tall garden hedge, peering through the wooden slats at the spectacle unfolding in the backyard. Fifteen children in lopsided paper crowns were systematically destroying a piñata with the focused brutality of tiny professionals, while a hollow-eyed clown stood off to one side clutching a sorry bunch of balloon animals that absolutely nobody had requested. The presents were piled high on a folding table near the back fence, wrapped in gleaming paper and enormous bows, completely and utterly unguarded. Bill adjusted the strap on his duffel bag and studied the target with calm, technical precision. The plan was elegant in its beautiful simplicity. Hop the fence, cross six feet of open lawn, collect the merchandise, and be gone before anyone noticed. The clown remained the only real variable. The clown was always the only real variable. "I count fourteen packages total," Molly murmured. "The silver one is definitely a bicycle." Bill watched a child launch a fistful of birthday cake directly into a rosebush and felt something close to professional respect. "We move when they sing," he said. "Stay very low." Molly carefully refolded her crumpled napkin diagram with considerable dignity, ignoring the jam entirely.