Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1H0A8XF0DA7JTXNJRC3JPB

Molly and Bill crouched behind the community hall’s recycling bins, dressed in black so theatrical they looked less like criminals and more like understudies for a gloomy mime troupe. Through the window came the shriek of sugar-powered children and the wobbling chorus of a magician losing control of a rabbit. Molly unfolded a crayon-sketched floor plan stolen from a seven-year-old’s backpack. Balloons bobbed in the reflected light like sentries with cheerful faces. A clown on stilts patrolled the doorway, making the operation feel unnecessarily advanced. “Grab gifts, avoid cake,” Molly whispered. Bill adjusted his tiny grappling hook, which was actually a bent fondue fork tied to string. “And if the clown sees us?” “Then act natural,” she said. “No one questions a panicked adult at a children’s party.” Inside, a mountain of presents sat beneath a banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY ARCHIE!!! in letters large enough to be seen from orbit. Bill’s eyes gleamed with professional admiration. There were dinosaurs, glittery boxes, suspiciously expensive electronics hidden in gift bags decorated with pirates. A hired princess swept past the window, singing to a child who was weeping into a juice carton. Bill crossed himself with a glow stick. Molly checked her watch, waiting for the sacred moment every thief respected: the instant before pass-the-parcel turned feral and all adult supervision collapsed entirely.