Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1HASXE51N8R9YQEQHG070C

Molly crouched behind the garden wall, peering at balloons bobbing above the hedge like gaudy surveillance devices. Bill unfolded a crayon-scribbled map with the gravity of an admiral plotting war, though it had clearly once belonged to a child named Poppy. “Front gate’s impossible,” Molly whispered. “Too many parents, too many casseroles.” “Then we go through the side fence,” Bill said. “I’ve bribed the dog with sausages.” “You bribed a Labrador. That’s not strategy, Bill, that’s catering.” “Mock me now, thank me when we’re knee-deep in wrapping paper.” Molly adjusted her black gloves, which made her look less like a master thief and more like a very determined mime. From the lawn came shrieks, a magician’s exhausted applause line, and the unmistakable thud of a bouncy castle losing dignity. “The presents are stacked by the cake table,” she said. “We get in during ‘Happy Birthday.’ No one hears crime over group singing.” “And if they do?” “We smile, say we’re cousins, and carry off the loot with tragic confidence.” Bill nodded. “What about the clown?” “I fear no clown.” “You should. He’s got the eyes of a tax inspector.” They rose together as the first notes of birthday song drifted over the hedge. “Ready?” Molly asked. Bill grinned. “For glory, greed, and moderately expensive toys.” “Keep low,” she said. “Never,” he replied, and immediately tripped over a gnome.