Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCR2T6B6VSAJ1EJ1A74VR2G

Molly unrolled the blueprint across the hood of the van. It was a paper placemat from the pizza parlor, but it had a maze on it, and she felt that counted. "Bouncy castle here," she said, tapping a grease stain. "Piñata here. Presents stacked on the folding table, northeast corner, guarded by grandmothers." "How many grandmothers?" "Four. Possibly five. One of them knits, so assume she's armed." Bill chewed his thumbnail. "And we just walk in?" "We walk in as entertainment. You're the clown." "Why am I always the clown?" "Because you have the face for it, Bill, and I mean that with love." Molly handed him a red foam nose that had clearly been chewed by something. "I'll be the magician. Magicians get a table, a cloth, and nobody questions a large black bag." "What about the birthday boy?" "Theodore. Turns seven at three-fifteen. He's allergic to strawberries, afraid of mimes, and has a metal detector on his wish list, which I find personally insulting." Bill squeezed the nose onto his face and exhaled through his mouth. "This feels wrong." "It's a *heist*, Bill. Wrong is the genre." "No, I mean the nose. It's damp." Molly folded the placemat. "Then wear it proudly. Showtime."