Run: 2026-09-23-01M36WMDRG79Y4R0EQYDG61Y0F

Bill adjusted his mustache for the third time that evening while studying the hand-drawn floor plan Molly had spread across the hood of their getaway car. The kids' birthday party at Henderson's house was set for two o'clock sharp, and the guest list promised at least forty-seven wrapped boxes filled with toys, gift cards, and whatever else wealthy suburban parents poured their guilt into. "What's the deal with the clown?" Molly asked, jabbing a manicured fingernail at a stick figure wearing a ruffled collar. "He's booked through six," Bill replied without looking up. "Plenty of time." Molly leaned against the car door, chewing on a strand of hair. She'd memorized the air vent layout from the realtor listing they'd snagged online. Everything hinged on timing—sneaking in through the side entrance during the cake ceremony, when every parent's attention would be locked on some tiny human shoveling buttercream into their mouth. The presents would be grouped near the fireplace, likely unguarded, possibly even ignored. Parents barely checked whether gifts were removed from the scene. They just assumed everything would be accounted for by the following Tuesday. Bill folded the floor plan and slipped it into his breast pocket. They'd rehearsed their exit a dozen times in the parking lot behind the laundromat. Quick in, grab, carry, gone. Twenty-two seconds maximum. Anything longer meant somebody's toddler wandered off from the pinata zone and noticed a stranger in dark clothing hauling a garbage bag toward the fence. Molly pulled her hood up and checked her watch. "Let's go steal from children."