Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GX7ZY7PBRDAKBK4DHBBHJN

Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas, binoculars pressed to her eyes. Across the cul-de-sac, a banner reading HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY TYLER flapped like a taunt. The target sat in plain view: a gift table stacked with wrapped plunder, guarded by a folding chair and one sagging streamer. Beside her, Bill unfolded his hand-drawn schematic of the backyard. He'd labeled the bouncy castle ZONE OF DEATH and the kiddie pool SECONDARY ZONE OF DEATH. His balaclava featured a printed cartoon tiger, which he insisted was camouflage. "Sugar crash at two fifteen," Molly murmured. "Our window." The plan was elegant. During pass-the-parcel, while nineteen children descended into blindfolded, feral chaos, they would slip through the side gate, sweep the table, and vanish before anyone finished a verse. Molly had cased three parties that month. Parents, she'd learned, were deaf to everything except small talk. Dads migrated toward the grill. Moms debated preschool admissions. Nobody watched the presents. Bill's eyes glistened behind the tiger stripes. "It's just so festive," he sniffled. "You cry, you blow the heist," Molly warned, patting his shoulder. "Joy is collateral." A balloon escaped overhead. Somewhere, a clown honked. Molly checked her watch. They rose from the hydrangeas, two shadows creeping toward the piñata.