Run: 2026-09-02-01M1H57BSJX9HDXJCTM6AWD2T3

Molly crouched behind the inflated bouncy castle, adjusting her clown nose with the solemnity of a general donning armor. The scent of cotton candy and crushed juice boxes hung in the air like a warning. Bill sidled up, dressed as a magician, carrying a black bag that officially held doves and unofficially held zipties. "Target acquired," he whispered, nodding toward the gift table stacked with a miniature mountain of wrapping paper. "Three hundred presents," Molly breathed. "Their parents' credit cards wept for this." "Six-year-olds don't need three hundred presents." "Nobody deserves three hundred presents." The plan was simple: Molly would perform balloon animals until attention drifted, Bill would palm the smallest gifts, and the big ones—the bike, the playset, the dollhouse the size of a shed—would go out the back in a wheelbarrow disguised as a parade float. A child spotted them and screamed with delight, mistaking their case notes for party tricks. "Act natural," Molly hissed. Bill made a dove vanish, badly. The child applauded anyway. Children were terrible witnesses. Molly glanced at the cake table, then at the exits, then at the mountain of loot shimmering under the piñata's paper smile. "After cake," she said. "Nobody heists mid-cake."