Run: 2026-07-09-01KX410C1YW301PCPTKB6MVG7N

Molly spread a crayon map across the café table. Purple icing marked the mansion; jellybeans represented guards. Bill ate the getaway car. “Stop eating the plan.” “I’m nervous.” “You’re always nervous.” “Children are unpredictable, Molly. They scream, bite, and possess excellent peripheral vision.” “We enter disguised as entertainers.” “Clowns?” “Magicians.” “I know one trick.” “Making sandwiches disappear doesn’t count.” “It impressed Mum.” Outside, rain drummed against the window. Molly positioned two sugar packets beside the ballroom entrance. Their labels read SECURITY, though Bill had drawn moustaches on them. “The presents are here, behind the puppet theatre.” “How many?” “Forty-seven.” “That’s immoral.” “We’re thieves.” “I meant uneven. We’ll argue over the extra.” “You can have it.” “What if it’s socks?” “Then justice prevails.” Bill leaned closer, lowering his voice as a waitress passed. “How do we escape?” “Laundry chute, basement, delivery van.” “What if the chute’s narrow?” “Skip breakfast.” “I already ate the getaway car.” At noon, they reached the mansion wearing capes and carrying an empty trunk. Balloons bobbed above the gate like colorful witnesses. A small girl blocked their path. “You’re not the magicians.” Molly smiled. “We’re substitutes.” “Prove it.” Bill produced a coin, dropped it, then accidentally kicked it through the gate. The girl folded her arms. “Impressive,” she said.