Run: 2026-03-18-01KM08KZ2K2ZC9S8VKTJ3CJYZP

Molly peered through the hedge. "There it is, Bill. The annual shriek-fest." Bill adjusted his tie. "You mean the children's party?" "That's what I said. Look at those presents." "Stacked like tiny, colorful regrets," Bill whispered. "Exactly. We go in, blend in, and leave with the loot." "Blend in?" Bill hissed. "I am a six-foot man in a fake mustache carrying a sack." "Then act like a clown." "I resent that." "Good. Resentment is subtle." Inside, a balloon popped. "Did you hear that?" "Yes," Molly said. "The room is full of sugar and panic. Perfect cover." Bill swallowed. "What if they ask questions?" "Children?" Molly scoffed. "Please. Tell them you're the magician." "I can't do magic." "Then do what every magician does: lie with confidence." "And the presents?" "We take the big ones first. Train set, dollhouse, anything that rattles." "Disgusting." "Bill, we are thieves." "Fair. But if I get caught by a toddler, I want it on my gravestone." Molly grinned. "Move quietly." Bill nodded. "And if there's cake?" "Bill." "What?" "No snacking. We're professionals." "Fine," he whispered, "but if there's blue frosting, I'm weak." Molly laughed. "Then don't look at the cake. Look at the exits and the emergency confetti. Now, move."