Run: 2026-09-23-01M36W4YQNCR17G8G36AFD2BTD

Bill crouched behind the lilac bushes at the back of the Hendersons' garden, binoculars pressed to his face. The birthday party was in full swing. A massive bouncy castle wobbled dangerously in the northwest corner. Streamers draped the fence like colourful spiderwebs. And there, stacked on a long table beneath a "Happy Birthday KAYLA" banner, was the motherload: at least thirty presents wrapped in tissue paper and glitter. "Are those actually wrapped in glitter?" Bill whispered. Molly lay flat on her stomach beside him, studying a blueprint she had drawn on the back of a shopping receipt. "No. The reflection off the fairy lights. Focus." She tapped the receipt gently. She had laid out the plan in meticulous detail across its cramped surface and half onto a napkin, which made certain sections harder to read due to a coffee ring. The magician would arrive at two and begin his show at half past. That was the primary distraction. Twenty children would be glued to a grown man pulling ribbons out of a hat and pretending to find coins behind ears, while the parents congregated in the kitchen for cake. The present table would be completely unguarded. "What about the clown?" Bill asked, nodding toward a figure in oversized shoes near the trampolines. "That's Uncle Dave. He lost a bet. Ignore Uncle Dave." She folded the receipt and slipped it into her jacket. Her voice took on the clipped authority of a general addressing troops before battle. She would enter through the back gate at 3:05 and hand the presents over the wall to Bill, who would load them into two green recycling bags she had brought for the purpose. The trolley waited behind the shed. The getaway vehicle was a transit van two streets away, plastered with questionable emission stickers and smelling faintly of dried fish. "How do we carry thirty presents in one trip?" Bill asked. "You don't carry. You shove." She studied his expression and sighed. "Don't look at me like that. We've hit harder targets than a garden party." "This is a horrible thing to do." "Have you seen those presents? There must be a bicycle in there." "It's Kayla's third birthday. She doesn't even know what presents are. She's been chewing that plate for forty minutes." Molly said this with the certainty of a woman who had never once questioned her own morality. She gestured toward the house, where an adult-sized human was now bouncing on the bouncy castle and screaming just as loudly as the children. "We're redistributing toys to adults who need them more. Us. We need them more. Do you know what our place looks like? There's a hole in the ceiling shaped like a goose." Bill looked at her. She looked at him. A child somewhere screamed with the kind of joy that sounded identical to terror. "A goose," she repeated. "Fine. 3:05. Green recycling bags. I hate everything about this." "That's the spirit. Now stop looking so guilty. You're making me look bad."