Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1GX6AQGC1XRP48ETB3CRJF

Molly crouched behind the community-center hedge, eyeing the inflatable castle bobbing above the fence like a cheerful surveillance balloon. The yard beyond throbbed with the lawless energy of seven-year-olds on frosting. Paper hats flashed. A magician lost control of a dove. Somewhere, a parent laughed with the doomed confidence of the poorly informed. Beside her, Bill unfolded a hand-drawn map of the party grounds, though it was really just a napkin covered in arrows, cake stains, and the word LOOT written three times. “Presents by the gazebo,” Molly whispered. “Excellent,” Bill whispered back. “Tiny citizens, tiny defenses.” A clown on stilts wobbled past the gate, and both thieves instinctively ducked lower, as if the oversized shoes possessed elite detection skills. Molly adjusted her black gloves, which made her look less like a master criminal than a burglar attending a winter funeral. The presents sat in a mountain of glossy paper near the punch bowl, guarded only by a sleepy spaniel in a bow tie. Bill studied the dog with professional unease. He feared animals in formalwear. Molly produced two juice boxes, three party hats, and a roll of stickers from her satchel. Bill blinked. Within moments they were disguised as exhausted entertainers, walking through the gate with the solemn authority of people who absolutely belonged near a piñata.