Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1H1W0B4CBT33RY4AJYHPDR

Molly crouched behind the hedge, binoculars aimed at a backyard exploding with balloons, streamers, and the shriek of sugar-powered children. Bill lay beside her, flat in the petunias, wearing a delivery cap he’d found in a puddle. “Tell me again,” Bill whispered, “why we’re robbing a seven-year-old?” “We’re not robbing a child,” Molly said. “We’re liberating high-end toys from inattentive adults.” “That sounds like robbing a child with extra syllables.” She lowered the binoculars. “Observe the patio. Mountain of presents. No guard dog. One clown, and he looks union.” “I hate clowns,” Bill muttered. “They’ve got the shoes of liars.” Molly unfolded a crayon-colored map. “You go in as the magician’s assistant.” “There is no magician.” “Exactly. Confidence is magic.” Bill squinted at the yard. “What’s my exit?” “Cake table, left gate, alley, van. I’ll create a diversion.” “With what?” She smiled. “Bouncy castle deflation.” Bill stared. “Molly, that’s not a diversion. That’s an uprising.” From the yard came a roar of children. A piñata burst like a tiny apocalypse. “Timing,” Molly said, rising. “When chaos peaks, we harvest.” Bill adjusted the soggy cap. “If I get tackled by a parent in a paper hat, avenge me.” “Professionally,” Molly said, already moving, “I’ll steal your share too.”