Run: 2026-03-11-01KKFGMD4CF9SDQARER3846MB1

Molly crouched behind the birthday cake table, eyes darting to the streamers that fluttered like nervous birds. The scent of vanilla frosting mingled with cheap balloon rubber, a reminder that joy was cheaply manufactured tonight. "Check the clock, we have five minutes." "Copy that. I'll distract the clown." "Go left, I'll take right." "Okay." "Now." Bill adjusted his glove, feeling the lockpick's weight, and whispered a plan that sounded like a lullaby, not just really a heist. They watched the hired clown inflate animals for an hour, timing giggles and squeals to know when the parents would be distracted by the cake cutting. Room buzzed with off‑key 'Happy Birthday' chorus sung by toddlers who barely knew the words, and Molly felt pang of guilt she quickly shoved aside, replacing it with thrill of the score. Bill glanced at the stack of brightly wrapped presents piled near the piñata, their ribbons promising easy loot. He tapped Molly’s shoulder twice, signal they’d rehearsed in the back of laundromat, and she nodded, her grin hidden behind a smear of chocolate. Together they slipped toward table, hearts pounding like drummers in marching band, ready to turn a child’s celebration into their own private Christmas.