Run: 2026-09-23-01M37HX41ABEMM5MQ3CD4MT7CD

Molly spread a crayon drawing across the café table. A purple rectangle occupied its center, surrounded by stick figures wearing party hats. “Is that the house?” Bill asked. “That’s the house. The purple blob is the pile of presents.” “What are the little red things?” “Children.” “Why are they red?” “Crayon shortage. Focus. At two o’clock, the guests arrive. At two-thirty, the magician begins his act. At two-thirty-one, we take every present.” “Every present?” “All of them.” “That seems ambitious.” “We’re thieves, Bill. Ambition is our only qualification.” Bill studied the drawing. “What’s the magician’s name?” “Professor Prestissimo.” “Real professor?” “Unclear. He has a cape, which suggests either no qualifications or too many.” “And how do we get inside?” “I’ve secured invitations.” “You know the birthday child?” “No. But the invitations say, ‘Bring a friend!’” “That means the children can bring friends.” “Exactly. We’re friends.” “We’re forty.” “Friendship has no age limit.” A waitress passed their table. Molly folded the drawing until the red stick figures disappeared. Bill lowered his voice. “The parents will notice two adults carrying gifts out of the house.” “Not if they believe we’re moving them for the big surprise.” “What big surprise?” “The absence of gifts. Stop asking questions they might ask.” “That feels like a weakness in the plan.” “It’s called flexibility. We’ll bring a wagon and say we’re setting up the grand present procession in the garden.” “Is that a thing?” “It will be when I say it with confidence. Professor Prestissimo will be pulling scarves from his sleeve. Nobody looks at anything else when there’s a man producing an unreasonable length of fabric.” Bill tapped the edge of the drawing. “You forgot the dog.” “There’s a dog?” “Birthday parties have dogs. If the family doesn’t own one, somebody brings one.” “We’ll bring biscuits.” “What if the dog barks?” “Then Professor Prestissimo gets a lovely round of applause while we run.” “And the children?” “Busy watching the magician.” “For the whole time it takes to load a wagon?” Molly looked toward the window. “How many presents can one child have?” Bill unfolded the drawing. “You’ve drawn forty-seven.” “It’s an estimate.” “You numbered them.” “I like to be prepared.” Bill sat back. “Molly, why this party?” “Because the gifts will all be in one place.” “No. Why this one?” She rolled the crayon between her fingers. “The birthday child is my nephew. I promised I’d attend. Then I remembered his mother hates me.” “That explains the invitations.” “She says I make everything about me.” “Do you?” “Only interesting things.” Bill glanced at the wagon parked outside. A bright ribbon had been tied to its handle. “You tied a bow on the getaway wagon,” he said. “We have to get through the front door somehow.” “And after we steal the presents?” Molly smiled. “We wheel them round the back and pop out of a box. Professor Prestissimo owes me a favour.” Bill stared at her. “You’ve planned a surprise for your nephew.” “I’ve planned a heist. If he enjoys it, that’s his business.”