Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1H6DHQ9VE1P86RZQF1HAH0

Molly crouched behind the hedge, the summer air thick with the scent of frosting and fresh cut grass. A dozen colorful balloons bobbed above the backyard, each one a silent sentinel to the chaos inside. Bill slipped a dark duffel bag under his arm, his eyes scanning the side gate that led to the kitchen. "Bill, the kids are glued to the cake," Molly whispered, her voice barely a breath over the pop music. "Exactly," Bill replied, pointing to the side door. "No cameras, just a hallway of squeaky sneakers." Molly pulled a small lockpick from her pocket. "I can get the door open in under thirty seconds." "Good," Bill said, tapping his watch. "We have three minutes before the next song." "The clown is the perfect distraction," Molly suggested, eyes flickering. "If we pop the big red balloon, he'll scramble to fix it." "Brilliant," Bill answered, slipping a tiny speaker into his coat. "I'll play a baby cry; parents always rush." Molly smiled, tightening the strap of the duffel. "Remember, only the presents. The toys are too obvious." "Understood," Bill muttered, checking the speaker. "It will sound like a lost infant." The clown, juggling three bright balls, suddenly slipped on a stray balloon and fell. "Whoa!" a child shouted, pointing at the chaos. Molly slipped through the garden gate, her sneakers silent. "I'll grab the top tier first," she whispered. "Got your back," Bill replied, following close. "If a kid looks up, we duck." The table was a mountain of wrapped gifts, each box a promise of delight. "One, two, three—" Molly counted, scooping the biggest presents into the bag. "Quick!" Bill hissed, grabbing the smaller ones. "We need to move." The duffel bulged, the weight making Molly grin wider. "We're loaded." "Now, exit," Bill whispered, leading the way back to the side door. "The parents will be busy with the baby drama." Molly glanced back at the party, the children laughing, the clown frantically searching for the balloon. "Mission accomplished," she said, as they slipped into the night, the bag heavy with stolen joy. The night air was cool, the streetlights casting long shadows on the lawn. Molly felt the weight of the stolen gifts, each box a secret promise of mischief. Bill checked the alley for any lingering lights, his breath forming tiny clouds. "Think they'll notice the missing presents?" Bill asked, his voice low. "Probably not until morning," Molly replied, glancing at the empty duffel. "Kids will think Santa just arrived early." "Let's get out before the parents start cleaning up," Bill said, slipping the duffel under his arm. "Agreed," Molly whispered, pulling the gate shut behind them. "Now, back to the van." They vanished into the darkness, the night swallowing their footsteps as the party's music faded into a distant hum. Molly glanced at the sky, the moon a thin crescent. "We should lay low tomorrow," Bill whispered, eyeing the horizon. The two laughed quietly, their loot clinking like cheap bells. Night settled over the city.