Run: 2026-09-23-01M36R183D1P47R8ACW5A1CNF9

Rain ticked against the bakery awning as Molly unfolded a map of the community hall across a crate of stale cinnamon rolls. Bill leaned over it, wearing a black turtleneck and the expression of a man who had mistaken confidence for competence. “Right,” Molly said. “The birthday party starts at two. We enter, locate the presents, and leave with every last one.” “Define ‘every last one.’” “All of them, Bill.” “What about the enormous one?” “Especially the enormous one.” He studied the map. “That’s a cake.” “It’s drawn like a present.” “It has candles.” “Children are unpredictable. Perhaps they gift each other cake.” Bill nodded gravely. “A dangerous custom.” Molly tapped the hall. “We’ll blend in.” “In what?” “Party clothes.” “I own a tie.” “You own a tie shaped like a fish.” “It’s festive.” “It has a hook through its forehead.” “Also festive.” Molly sighed and rolled up the map. “We’ll go as entertainers. I’ll be a magician; you’ll be my assistant.” “Why am I the assistant?” “Because you can’t do magic.” “I once made a sandwich disappear.” “You ate it.” “Exactly. No witnesses.” They crossed the parking lot toward the hall. Through the windows, children darted beneath paper streamers while a woman arranged gift bags on a table. Bill peered in. “Look at that mountain of presents. We could retire.” “We could buy a house.” “With a room just for presents?” “No.” “Then I’m not retiring.” Molly adjusted the purple top hat she’d borrowed from a costume shop. “Remember, we’re charming. We’re harmless. We’re here to entertain.” “I can do charming.” “Last week you told a cashier her smile looked expensive.” “It did. Very high-quality smile.” At the entrance, a small boy opened the door and stared up at them. “Are you the magician?” Molly smiled. “We certainly are.” “Can you make my dad disappear?” Bill crouched beside him. “Can you make him disappear first? Then I’ll study the technique.” “Bill.” “What? It’s a professional question.” The boy grabbed Molly’s hand and tugged them inside. “Come on! Everyone’s waiting!” Molly whispered, “We go in, we assess the presents, we improvise.” “Could we improvise a quick exit?” “Not before the cake.” A woman in a paper crown hurried over. “Wonderful, you’re here! The children are ready. Could you help me bring the presents to the gift table?” Bill glanced at Molly. “This is either ideal or a trap.” “It’s a children’s party. The trap is probably glitter.” They carried the presents across the room, stacking them neatly beneath a banner that read HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LEO. Every child watched, delighted. “Careful with the blue one,” Leo announced. “That’s for me.” “Of course,” Molly said. “And the red one.” “Also yours?” “No, that’s for my sister. She’s at home.” Bill froze. “Your sister isn’t here?” “She’s sick.” Molly looked at the pile, then at Bill. “We’re not stealing these.” “I know,” he murmured. “I’m deciding whether to steal the cake instead.” A child handed him a paper crown. Bill put it on. “You look like the king of bad ideas,” Molly said. “Then kneel, assistant.” The children cheered as Molly pulled a rubber chicken from her hat. Bill bowed, and the crown slid over his eyes. “Behold,” Molly announced, “the disappearing thief!” “Where?” shouted Leo. Bill shuffled blindly toward the cake. “I’m right here, and I’m beginning to see why professionals bring maps.”