Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NHNM4SDRWQS9DNQXV1DR8

Molly crouched behind a hedge shaped like a lopsided duck, studying the community hall. Through its windows, balloons bobbed above a table stacked with brightly wrapped presents. A banner announced ELLIOT’S SEVENTH BIRTHDAY in letters that seemed smug. “Remind me why we’re stealing from a seven-year-old,” Bill whispered. “Because the presents are unattended, and you said we needed a low-risk job.” “I said low-risk. I didn’t say low-moral.” Molly glanced at him. “You once stole a parking meter.” “It was empty. I was rescuing it from disappointment.” Inside, children shrieked around a magician whose rabbit had escaped. The rabbit bounded beneath the present table, and every child followed, abandoning cupcakes, juice boxes, and one enormous chocolate cake. Bill watched the chaos with professional interest. “Now’s our chance,” he said. “We stroll in, lift the gifts, stroll out. Nobody suspects the people carrying twelve presents.” “People will suspect the people carrying twelve presents.” “Then we carry eleven. We’ll look much more innocent.” Molly tapped the glass. The hall’s side door opened, and a harried woman appeared holding a tray of paper cups. She looked directly at them. “Are you the entertainers?” she asked. Bill straightened his jacket. “We are, technically, entertaining.” “Wonderful. The clown never showed.” Molly’s expression tightened. “Bill, don’t.” “I can juggle,” he said. “You dropped three oranges and apologized to one.” “They were emotionally fragile oranges.” The woman ushered them inside before either thief could invent a respectable excuse. In the hall, a small boy wore a cardboard crown and watched them with solemn interest. A sign beside him read: PLEASE PUT PRESENTS ON THE TABLE. Bill’s eyes drifted toward the pile. “Focus,” Molly murmured. “We’re here to blend in.” “I’m blending. I’m practically beige.” “Beige doesn’t stare at the loot.” “That’s because beige has no ambition.” The escaped rabbit reappeared, dragging a ribbon behind it. The children cheered. Bill seized the moment, bowed theatrically, and announced that he would perform the world’s safest magic trick. “Pick a present,” Molly whispered. “I’m not stealing it. I’m making it disappear.” “That is literally stealing it.” “Not if it reappears.” He lifted a box, turned around, and found the birthday boy standing at his elbow. The boy held out a cupcake with a single candle in it. “Are you the present magician?” he asked. Bill hesitated. Molly’s hand hovered near the box, then settled on Bill’s shoulder. “Absolutely,” Bill said. “But first, we need a volunteer.” The boy pointed at the rabbit. The rabbit promptly leapt into the open box, where it sat among tissue paper like a fuzzy, judgmental king. Children applauded. Molly exhaled, then noticed the woman watching them. “Congratulations,” she said. “You’ve been hired.” “For what?” Bill asked. “Cleanup. The clown’s late, the magician’s missing, and the rabbit has eaten the schedule.” Molly looked at the presents, then at Bill. “We’re leaving.” “After the cake,” Bill said. “A thief should never leave a scene without taking something.” He accepted a cupcake. Molly took one too. The birthday boy handed them napkins, and, for once, neither thief tried to steal a thing.