Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0A70VJNJTPT7WC95WCQ5GQ

Molly and Bill crouched behind the frosting van, listening to clapping and the squeak of tiny shoes. Molly checked the strap of her ridiculous tiara and signaled that the coast was clear. Bill held a gift bag like it was a sleeping pet, trying not to breathe frosting air. Across the lawn, a banner screamed HAPPY BIRTHDAY, and somewhere a DJ remixed bubble-wrap. Molly eyed the tree of presents, all wrapped in bright paper and louder hopes. The crowd surged toward the living room, leaving a narrow opening. Molly leaned in, ready to negotiate with chaos. “Bill, we’re breaking into the kids’ party.” “Sure, but gently. I can’t handle juice on my reputation.” “We’ll steal all the presents, not the cupcakes. Kids deserve frosting.” “Then what about the clown? He looks hungry.” “Kick the wheels of his confidence and walk away.” “I don’t even have shoes for wheel-kicking.” “Use the bag. It’s basically a magnet for wrapping paper.” “Is that moral compromise or just festive physics?” “Festive physics. Hurry—someone’s singing.” “Good. Singing covers our awkward creeping.” “After the tree, we grab and exit before the piñata.” “Agreed. If we get caught, we’re undercover: professional gift appreciators.” Then they slipped inside.