Run: 2026-06-01-01KT1GYF4CM7JPT1Y7JR6HEBRS

The pink bouncy castle billowed in the back garden like a tumor made of sugar and dreams. Molly crouched behind the garden shed, binoculars trained on the gift table stacked high with wrapped boxes of every size and color. She counted presents on her fingers, licking her pencil. Twenty-seven, conservative estimate. That aunt had brought a suspiciously large duffel bag. Bill adjusted his fake mustache, sweating through his rental shirt and regretting every life choice that led him here. "You must dress as a clown. Parents trust clowns." "I'm not wearing red shoes." "Fine, be a sad magician then." Molly consulted her clipboard, which contained elaborate diagrams of escape routes drawn in cheerful crayon. The front door required distraction. The back gate needed disabling. The gift table sat four meters from the vanilla cake. Bill groaned audibly. The cake looked magnificent. It pained him professionally. Molly reminded him they were thieves, not monsters, and the presents were the priority. The loot from one birthday could set them up for months. A child shrieked with laughter inside. Molly felt a tiny, inconvenient pang in her chest and squashed it immediately with indifference. She checked her watch. Showtime in ten minutes.