Run: 2026-09-23-01M36SKH5975NH50XXFKBE0EQE

Molly knelt behind the plastic hedge, watching balloons crowd the ceiling of the rented hall. Bill arrived with a bent paper crown and no confidence at all. "Cake song is our door," she said. "They look up. We take the table." "All the presents?" he asked. "All the ones with bows. Leave the juice." "The clown is guarding them." "Clowns guard feelings. We are not feelings." "I feel like a feeling." "Then feel quieter." A child pressed a nose to the glass and lifted a juice box as if it were a badge. Molly waved. The child waved harder, recruiting them into a friendship they could not survive. "They will cry," Bill said. "They cry when balloons pop. We leave every card, so the names still get a party." "That is strangely decent." "Do not advertise it." "Front door?" "We walk in like the ice people." "We have no ice." "We have nerve. It keeps." Inside, a blindfold missed the piñata and candy went everywhere, a small storm with opinions. Bill touched his crown. "On three," he whispered. "On cake," she said. "If the whistle blows, we are lost grandparents." They stayed low in the bright noise, silly and decided.