Run: 2026-09-23-01M36V3CN2RWJABQJZHMBNC0KM

Molly flattened herself against the hedge and peered through a gap in the party banners. Balloons bobbed cheerfully over a backyard littered with cake crumbs and crayon drawings. She elbowed Bill in the ribs as he studied a crumpled napkin like it contained the plans for Fort Knox. The napkin, she noted, had a frosting thumbprint on one corner. The clown was already packing up his sequined sorrow. The parents were loosening ties and tolerating bad jokes from fathers who thought they were comedians. Molly could practically smell the gift table — tissue paper mountains of brightly wrapped boxes waiting for tiny hands. "What's the exit strategy?" Bill whispered, adjusting his tool belt that jingled with every fidget. "Front gate, dust the frosting off, and walk out like we belong." "And if the dog bites me?" "Then you'll have earned your cut, Bill."