Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0AJSWJ5B1G63CD3MJ9GJ9S

The moon hung over Birchwood Hall, where balloons bobbed like nervous jellyfish. Molly adjusted her gloves and studied the children’s party through the hedge. It looked less like a celebration and more like a weather event. Bill, crouched beside her, was chewing a biscuit. “Bill, smile and nod.” “Why?” “Because parents tip well when they think you’re family.” “And the clown scares me.” “Excellent.” Molly pointed at the gift table, where presents gleamed beneath ribbons like tiny hostage planets. She whispered that they should wait for the magician’s rabbit; when he screamed, they would blend with the parents, lift the boxes into the pram, and stroll out looking tragic. Bill peered at the pram parked by the cake. It contained only a sunhat, three soggy crackers, and a rubber duck wearing sunglasses. The band began a rendition of “Happy Birthday,” sounding like a brass argument. Children whooped, parents clapped, and the magician marched onstage. The last thing either thief noticed was the birthday child, who waved the foam sword like a tiny, delighted stern customs officer. Molly straightened her cap. Bill swallowed, remembered the duck, and nodded with professional shame. Together they slipped toward presents, like respectable relatives in silence.