Run: 2026-03-09-01KKACDZG6XVT859PGQVT8WDX9

Molly peered over the hedge at the riot of balloons, wobbling like nervous witnesses in the dusk. Bill adjusted his tie, which was printed with tiny ducks and somehow made him look more criminal. “Children’s parties,” Molly whispered. “Nature’s cruelest buffet.” “Focus,” Bill said. “We’re here for presents, not jelly.” “I can multitask. How many tiny aristocrats are inside?” “Eight, possibly nine if the birthday boy has a gloomy cousin.” “And the clown?” “Already defeated by face paint and his own despair.” Molly grinned. “Good. I hate professionals.” A shriek rose from the garden, followed by the unmistakable thud of a piñata meeting its destiny. Bill flinched. “We slip in, smile strangely, and leave richer,” he said. “With what cover?” “I’m the magician.” “You can’t do magic.” “I can make credibility disappear.” Molly straightened her cardigan. “Fine. I’m the aunt from Leeds.” “You’ve never been to Leeds.” “Exactly. I’ll be mysterious.” They crept toward the gate as a confetti cannon fired early, showering Bill in glitter. “Now I look festive,” he muttered. “No,” Molly said, patting his shoulder. “Now you look arrestable.” Molly smirked. “Cheer up. If we fail, there’s always cake, and prison parties are famously underdecorated too.”