Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1HHE3B524DTEDJ31G84HS6

Molly and Bill crouched behind the hedge of Number Twelve, staring at a garden festooned with balloons, bunting, and a cardboard pirate ship listing gently over the paddling pool. Children shrieked in sugar-hazed circles while a clown on stilts folded balloon swords with the solemnity of a cathedral organist. Near the patio doors, a mountainous table sagged under frosted cake, orange squash, and a glittering hill of wrapped presents. “Timing,” Molly whispered, flattening her cap. “We go in with the magician.” Bill adjusted his too-small waistcoat and peered through the leaves. “I still say the clown has better cover.” The scent of sausages drifted over the fence, almost enough to derail professional ambition. Molly unfolded a hand-drawn plan on the back of a takeaway menu: gate, shed, patio, loot, retreat. Bill nodded gravely, though his eyes kept wandering to the cake shaped like a dragon wearing sunglasses. A hired princess swept across the lawn, trailed by children demanding stickers and justice. Parents laughed into paper cups, blissfully inattentive. The pile of presents glimmered like buried treasure brought irresponsibly aboveground. “On my mark,” Molly said. Bill swallowed. “If a six-year-old interrogates me, I’m folding.” Molly patted the sack, checked the gate latch, and smiled the smile of a woman about to commit something deeply unserious.