Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0A069SVG9XRRAK8NK8RA03

Molly and Bill crouched behind a bush outside the vibrantly decorated house, their eyes glued to the lit windows where laughter and music spilled out. The backyard was a minefield of kids' toys—tricycles lay abandoned, and a lone balloon had drifted down to the grass, sighing as it lost air. Molly adjusted her night vision goggles with a gloved hand, her breath visible in the cold night air. Bill, beside her, squinted at the scene through a pair of borrowed spectacles that did nothing to help his vision but made him feel academic about the heist. The house pulsed with the high-pitched squeals of children, punctuated by the occasional discordant note of a party game gone wrong. A piñata in the shape of a dinosaur hung limply from a tree branch, its papier-mâché skin already showing signs of wear from earlier festivities. Somewhere inside, a child wailed about a missing juice box, a sound that made Molly’s own throat tighten with nostalgia and regret. Bill tapped her shoulder and pointed toward a brightly lit window where the faint outline of wrapped gifts could be seen stacked in a corner. “We go in through the back door,” he murmured, “past the cake table and the clown mural.” Molly nodded, her ponytail swishing as she checked the straps of her backpack for the hundredth time. A gust of wind carried the scent of sugar and frosting their way, making both thieves momentarily pause, their stomachs growling in unison like a pair of disgruntled alley cats. Molly took a deep breath and tightened the grasp on her crowbar. “You ready for this?” Bill adjusted his hat, a ridiculous affair with a feather that had seen better decades. “Always,” he lied. Together, they crept toward the house, their shadows stretching long and crooked across the lawn like two hopeful monsters of the night.