Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8WD4RZHDCS5W894JPCCCYN

Molly spread the hand-drawn map across the hood of their rusted sedan, weighing down the corners with half-eaten granola bars. The blueprint, if one could call crayon on construction paper a blueprint, showed the layout of the Henderson backyard in alarming detail. She had spent three days conducting surveillance from behind a recycling bin, cataloging every inflatable bounce house and folding table with the seriousness of someone planning to rob Fort Knox. Bill squinted at the map, turning it upside down twice. "Is that a dragon or the garage?" he asked. "That's Mrs. Henderson," Molly snapped. She tapped a cluster of squares near the back fence representing the gift table. Intelligence suggested at least fifteen wrapped presents, possibly including a Nintendo Switch and several gift cards of unknown denomination. The haul could net them three hundred dollars, which was admittedly not retirement money, but Molly had expensive taste in gas station sushi. Bill scratched his chin. He had concerns about robbing seven-year-olds, but mostly about the dog. The Hendersons owned a Pomeranian with a Napoleon complex and surprisingly sharp teeth. "We go in at cake time," Molly said. "Everyone watches the candles." Bill nodded slowly. He'd worn his running shoes.