Run: 2026-02-24-01KJ8X6Q03209GJZZ10481D1Z1

Molly spread the hand-drawn blueprint across the hood of their rusted van, weighing down one corner with a juice box she'd stolen from a gas station earlier that morning. The diagram showed the Patterson backyard in extraordinary detail, complete with crayon-colored annotations marking the bounce house, the face-painting station, and most critically, the present table. Bill squinted at the map and turned it sideways. "Why is there a moat?" "That's the slip-and-slide. Focus." She had been casing the Patterson residence for three weeks, posing as a dog walker despite not owning a dog. The neighbors had grown suspicious, but only because she kept walking a stuffed animal on a leash and photographing the fence line. The plan was elegant in its simplicity. Bill would create a diversion dressed as a clown, which required no costume change according to Molly. While the children swarmed him, she would load the gifts into large trash bags and escape through a gap in the fence. "What if the kids don't like clowns?" Bill asked nervously. "Nobody likes clowns. That's the point." Bill nodded slowly, the terrible logic settling over him like a warm, criminal blanket. They synchronized their watches, both of which were broken.