Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HGEXZMF9P52R0XPCE2A53

Molly studied the birthday invitation as if it were a bank blueprint. Glitter stuck to her thumb. Across the street, balloons bobbed above a garden fence, marking the target more clearly than any security camera could. “Side gate?” Bill asked. “Guarded by a clown.” “Armed?” “Balloon sword. Stay focused.” They crouched behind a hedge, where Bill unfolded their equipment: two party hats, a gift bag, and a plate of biscuits. Molly had insisted on the biscuits. Nobody questioned a person carrying biscuits. The trouble was the presents. A mountain of bright boxes filled the conservatory, visible through the open doors. To move them all, they would need several trips and a plausible reason to be leaving. Bill pointed at a sign beside the gate: PLEASE TAKE YOUR PARTY FAVOURS HOME. “We claim they’re favours,” he said. “All forty boxes?” “Big party.” Molly considered this. Then the clown came through the gate and stopped in front of them. Up close, his red nose looked worryingly familiar. “Dad?” Molly said. He looked at the hats, the empty gift bag, and Bill’s biscuit plate. His smile broadened. “Your nephew’s waiting,” he said. “And I’ve already told him you’re doing the magic show.” Bill put the plate down. Molly, who had never learned a trick, picked it up again.