Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1GAMWFC3C4SKYPP8RH04J3

Molly crouched behind the hedges with the gravity of a general and the hat of a woman who had lost a bet with a scarecrow. Across the garden, balloons bobbed over the fence like cheerful witnesses, and a magician in a sequined waistcoat was sawing at a sponge rabbit for no clear reason. On the patio, a mountain of wrapped presents shimmered beneath a banner that read HAPPY SEVENTH, OLIVER, as if this were a perfectly sensible place to leave treasure unattended. Bill adjusted his black gloves, which were technically oven mitts, and peered through a gap in the leaves. “We go in smiling.” “That’s your terrifying face,” Molly hissed. Children shrieked around a rented bouncy castle that wheezed like an asthmatic dragon. A clown on stilts lurched past the gate carrying a tray of lemonade with the melancholy dignity of a doomed butler. Molly unfolded the plan, which was drawn on the back of a pizza menu and improved by crumbs. “Cake table, then presents.” Bill nodded solemnly. “In and out.” They rose together, only for Molly’s foot to sink into a flowerbed and Bill’s mitt to catch in the hedge, leaving him attached to a rosebush and swearing softly while the garden gate drifted open by itself, as if the afternoon were inviting disaster in.