Run: 2026-09-23-01M36V4MHTBGGXPTQMB445CENE

Molly crouched behind the hedge, binoculars pressed to her face, watching a clown stumble through a child's birthday party like a man who'd taken the wrong train. Bill lay beside her on the damp grass, reading a laminated floor plan of the Henderson residence with the intensity of a surgeon studying an X-ray. "Snacks first, presents second," Bill whispered. "Not negotiable," Molly agreed. Seven tables of crumpled napkins and half-eaten cake littered the backyard. A banner reading HAPPY BIRTHDAY TREVOR sagged between two oak trees. The wrapped presents sat in a heap near the slide, unguarded and gleaming. The parents were clustered by the grill, drinks in hand, discussing property taxes. Perfect. Molly noted two key details: the back door opened onto a hallway leading straight to the presents, and the ceiling had no smoke detectors—a fact she'd confirmed during yesterday's reconnaissance. "Kid will cry," she muttered. "He'll live." They waited for the singing to begin. Every adult would face the candles, mouths open, oblivious.