Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8VC35R45MSMEA0B37MG3FH

Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the hood of their rusted sedan, smoothing the crayon marks with her thumb. The blueprint had cost them two juice boxes and a firm promise to return Tommy Henderson's bicycle by Thursday. Bill squinted at it, rotating the paper three times before accepting he'd been reading it upside down. The target was simple: the Chambers residence, forty-seven Maple Drive, where little Sophia was turning six. Intelligence suggested at least thirty wrapped presents, a bouncy castle, and a piñata stuffed with enough candy to fund their retirement. Well, their dental bills at least. "We go in during musical statues," Molly whispered. "Everyone freezes. We grab and dash." Bill scratched his chin, a habit that intensified whenever a plan sounded both genius and profoundly stupid at the same time. "What about the dog?" he asked. Molly produced a Ziploc bag of premium bacon from her jacket with the confidence of a surgeon presenting a scalpel. She had thought of everything. Bill had thought of lunch. Together they were almost competent. "Good bacon solves everything," she said, patting the bag tenderly. The sun dipped behind the suburban rooftops as they synchronized their cartoon character watches and nodded.