Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1H0N8TNYVC5TQ49HS2C8VS

Molly crouched behind the church hall’s recycling bins, studying the birthday banner flapping over the gate like a taunt. Unicorns, balloons, a hired clown, and somewhere beyond the paper streamers, a mountain of brightly wrapped loot waiting beside a bouncy castle. Bill adjusted his wool cap and peered through the hedge with the solemn concentration of a man inspecting crown jewels rather than gift bags decorated with cartoon dinosaurs. “Quiet in, quick out,” Molly whispered. “Children are basically tiny drunks,” Bill murmured. “Unpredictable.” Inside, the party frothed with chaos. A magician was extracting scarves from his sleeve while three sugar-hysterical boys fenced with pool noodles. Near the trestle table sat the presents: glittering parcels stacked in a glorious heap, each one tagged in loopy handwriting, each one practically begging for a criminal misunderstanding. Molly straightened her cardigan, suddenly every inch the competent aunt. Bill carried a tray he’d pinched from the caterers and wore the strained smile of a substitute father at sports day. They slipped through the gate unnoticed, swallowed by shrieking games and the smell of cake icing. At the gift table Molly began loading parcels under the tray’s silver dome with breathtaking speed. Bill distracted a suspicious clown by asking directions to the toilet, then nodded sharply. In seconds they were gone, marching into the afternoon with enough presents to disappoint an entire postcode.