Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HKXEX026JD3S13YKF2ZMG

Molly spread a crayon drawing across the café table. It showed a house, a cake, seventeen stick figures, and a purple shape wearing a crown. “Is that the birthday child?” Bill asked. “That’s the dog. The birthday child is this smaller purple shape, beneath the dog.” Bill studied the drawing. “Why is the dog wearing a crown?” “Because it’s his house. Focus. We enter at three, when the magician starts.” Bill leaned closer. “Where did you get this?” “From the refrigerator of my sister’s kitchen.” “That sounds suspiciously like your nephew’s party.” Molly folded her arms. “It is my nephew’s party. That’s why I know the magician is terrible. Everyone will be looking at him in case he needs medical help.” Around them, the café rattled with spoons and lunchtime conversations. Molly lowered her voice anyway. Planning a heist demanded atmosphere, even when the target was a suburban living room and the take included a beginner’s chemistry set. Bill tapped the drawing. “How many presents?” “Twenty-three confirmed. Potentially more from late arrivals.” “And we take all of them?” “All. Otherwise they’ll know it was deliberate.” “I think taking all of them establishes that pretty firmly.” Molly ignored him. She had already ordered black clothing for both of them. Bill’s was a child’s pirate costume from the supermarket, but the hat had a feather, which lent the operation a certain dignity. “The presents sit under the stairs,” she said. “Kitchen door here. Garden gate here. We carry everything to the van.” “What van?” “The van we’ll borrow.” “From whom?” “My sister.” Bill removed his glasses and polished them slowly. “We’re borrowing your sister’s van to rob your sister’s child?” “When you say it like that, it sounds bad.” “It is bad.” Molly reached into her bag and produced a glittery invitation. Across the front, a cartoon dragon clutched a balloon and grinned with its entire face. Bill read the name. “Arthur. That’s the nephew?” “His cousin. My other sister’s son. They’re having a joint party.” “Does your family know what you do for a living?” “Not this part.” Bill turned the invitation over. On the back, in Molly’s neat handwriting, was a list headed PRESENTS TO RESCUE. Beneath it, she had written art supplies, books, dinosaur, possibly drum kit. “Rescue from what?” he asked. “Arthur’s father. He told both children that whoever gets the most presents wins the birthday.” Bill stared at her. “You could speak to him.” “I did. He said competition builds character and showed me a spreadsheet.” Outside, rain began to strike the café window. Bill picked up his glasses, still cloudy from his sleeve. “So we hide the presents until both children open them together,” he said. “At my house. There’s cake there too.” “Why didn’t you lead with that?” Molly glanced down at the drawing. “I wanted you to think I was capable of a proper heist.” Bill put on his glasses. “You’ve planned to steal a drum kit from a party full of children. I’m convinced.”