Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0A28D4CVSMP4VHP3JT8AHT

Molly crouched behind the bakery dumpster, peering at the bright balloons bobbing over the garden wall. “There,” she whispered, “the birthday fortress.” Bill adjusted his borrowed clown nose. “I hate that you’re right. It’s too cheerful.” “Cheerful means distracted.” “It also means sticky.” A chorus of children shrieked from inside, followed by a trumpet of karaoke and the thump of a bouncy castle. Molly opened her satchel and checked the tiny toolkit. “We go in with confidence.” “Confidence?” Bill said. “I have soup on my cuff and a balloon animal in my hat.” “Perfect disguise. You look like a man who belongs at a party.” “I look like a man who lost a fight with a craft table.” Molly smiled despite herself. “Remember the plan. We mingle, locate the pile of presents, and exit before anyone notices the loot is gone.” “And if they ask questions?” “Smile, wave, and hand them a cupcake.” Bill blinked. “We’re stealing from children.” “We’re redistributing birthday abundance.” “That is the most criminal sentence I’ve ever heard.” Molly pressed her ear to the gate. “Ready?” Bill sighed, straightened his clown nose, and lifted the latch. “For the record, if we get caught, I’m blaming your process.” “Fine,” Molly said, stepping into the sugar-scented chaos. “But I’m carrying the presents.”