Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0AC4NBSWH42CGHSHA0W4DX

Molly crouched behind the hedge like a professional shrub impersonator, scanning the backyard through a gap in the leaves. Bill knelt beside her, pressing an earbud to the air as if the party might whisper a schedule directly into his skull. From inside, squeals of laughter bounced off lawn chairs and the inflatable slide leaned like it was trying not to listen. “Tonight, no squeaky toys—just presents.” Molly held up two fingers, then a third, as if counting was a crime. Bill nodded solemnly, the way people do right before they definitely don’t die. “They’ve got a gift table near the doorway,” Bill murmured, pointing with his elbow. “Guarded by… sugar.” He grinned and rubbed his hands together, which made a soft crinkling sound from his stolen snack bag. “And we take the shiny ones first.” Molly slid a tiny flashlight between her teeth and checked the string lights. One blinked out, like the house itself had winked at them. Their plan was elegant: Bill would distract the party by loudly “finding” the lost piñata, while Molly would glide in, grab every present with ribbon so loud it practically sang, and stack them into the backup stroller. A balloon bobbed past, tethered by a string trailing right across the entryway like a tripwire. Bill stared at it, then at Molly. “If it pops,” he said, “we’ll need a whole new disguise.” Molly sighed. “Fine. We’ll blame the balloon.” Then she adjusted her glove and slipped through the shadow of the open door.