Run: 2026-03-18-01KM07D26XMQR19HFGNJQ7D94C

Molly crouched behind the hedge with a clipboard, a flashlight, and the look of a woman who had once been banned from three bakeries and still considered that a compliment. Across the garden, through a gap in the fence, a bright banner read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OSCAR! in letters so cheerful they felt almost threatening. Bill peered over her shoulder. “You’re taking notes?” “I’m planning,” Molly whispered. “You’re drawing a skull with a party hat.” “It’s a tactical skull.” Bill adjusted the black gloves on his hands, then immediately got them caught on a thorn. He hissed and yanked free. “So this is the target?” “This is the target,” Molly said. “The house, the garden, the presents, the sugar-fueled chaos. We get in during the singing, out during the cake, and nobody notices a thing.” Bill stared through the fence at the cluster of children in paper crowns. One was already crying because a balloon had looked at him funny. “Those are children, Molly. Tiny, sticky children.” “Yes.” “They’re armed with noisemakers.” “Yes.” “And that clown by the patio has somehow offended me personally.” Molly squinted. “That’s not a clown. That’s a magician.” “That’s worse.” A burst of shrieking applause rose from the party, followed by a deep male voice attempting to sing and failing catastrophically. Molly checked her watch. “Good. The parents are distracted. The gifts are stacked in the conservatory. We take the satchels, clear the ribbon barrier, and walk out like we belong there.” Bill frowned. “Walk out carrying fifteen wrapped boxes?” “Seventeen.” Bill gave her a long look. “You do understand ‘belong there’ is a bit compromised by the carrying of stolen birthdays.” Molly tapped the clipboard. “We are not stealing birthdays. We are stealing presents. There’s a moral distinction.” “Is there?” “Yes. Birthdays are intangible. Presents are in boxes.” Bill considered this. “That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said, and I once heard you explain parking fines as a conspiracy.” From inside the house came a shout, then the thud of a smaller child running full-speed into a table. The adults produced the sound of people pretending not to panic. Molly smiled. “Listen to that. They’re entering the window of maximum confusion.” “Your windows are always terrible.” “And yet they keep us employed.” Bill pulled a tiny pair of bolt cutters from his coat. “Fine. But if we’re questioned, I want it on record that I objected to stealing from children.” “You objected loudly.” “Loudly, morally, and with excellent posture.” Molly tucked the clipboard under her arm. “You’re the lookout.” “I hate being the lookout.” “You hate every role unless it involves opening things with a crowbar.” “I’m versatile.” “Bill, you once tried to crowbar a jam jar.” “It was a difficult jar.” They edged along the hedge toward a side gate decorated with streamers and a sign that read PLEASE REMEMBER TO SMILE. Bill pointed at it. “That’s not advice. That’s a threat.” Molly slipped a hairpin from her coat and knelt by the lock. “Focus.” “I am focused.” “You’re looking at the cake table.” “I’m monitoring frosting levels.” The lock clicked. Molly eased the gate open an inch. The sound from the party swelled: piano music, shrieks, a chorus of children shouting “Again! Again!” Bill winced. “Molly,” he whispered, “I just want to say, if we survive this, I’m choosing our next job.” “That’s never happened.” “It’s happening now. I’m thinking of something less psychologically damaging. Maybe a bank. Maybe a museum. Possibly a locked skip.” Molly smiled as she slipped into the garden. “Bill, darling, we are professionals.” He followed her, ducking past a wobbling scarecrow holding a balloon. “We’re prowling into a seven-year-old’s birthday with theft bags.” “Professionals with a niche market.” “And what’s the plan if a child sees us?” Molly straightened her gloves and glanced toward the conservatory, where the presents gleamed in towers of ribbon and paper. “We tell them we’re the surprise entertainment.” Bill blinked. “What entertainment?” She produced a handful of glitter from her pocket and let it catch the light. “Exactly.”