Run: 2026-09-23-01M37J2896ZTVHQV3TYXJJ0D3Y

Molly spread a crayon map across the diner table and pinned its corners with salt shakers. Across from her, Bill studied the drawing: a house, a garden, and seventeen stick figures wearing party hats. One stick figure stood beside a dog the size of a minibus. “Tell me you drew the dog too big.” “I drew the dog from memory.” “Your memory needs glasses.” “The dog is our smallest problem. At three, the children play musical statues. At three ten, the adults go inside for cake.” “And the presents?” “Under the gazebo.” Bill leaned closer. Molly had marked the gazebo with a red X and a smiling face. “Why is it smiling?” “That’s me, after we leave.” “You’ve given yourself very optimistic eyebrows.” Molly snatched back the crayon. Around them, the diner filled with the lunch crowd. She lowered her voice as a waitress approached, though Bill’s yellow raincoat and inflatable parrot already made discretion unlikely. The waitress topped up their coffees and paused over the map. “Nice party,” she said. “It’s for my nephew,” Molly replied. “He loves pirates.” The waitress glanced at Bill’s parrot. “Clearly.” Once she moved on, Bill pulled a folded invitation from his pocket. It was covered in glitter and addressed to Captain Sparklebeard, with a note from the birthday girl asking him to do his famous treasure hunt. “I’m not famous,” Bill said. “You’re booked.” “She saw me at the library. I read one pirate book. Badly.” “Perfect. You distract them. I collect the loot.” Bill looked at the invitation again. “Her parents invited me. I can’t steal from her.” “Then why did you agree to meet?” “You said there’d be cake.” There was a difficult silence, broken by Bill squeezing the parrot. It let out a long, accusatory squeak. Molly pulled the map toward her and rubbed at the red X with her thumb until the wax smeared. “You’re right,” she said. “We’ll have to tell Denise.” Bill brightened. Denise ran the community toy drive and had promised Molly a van if she could collect the leftover gifts from the party. Yesterday Molly had agreed without asking what “leftover” meant. This morning she had learned the family intended to donate unopened duplicates after the guests went home. “Tell her what?” “That we can’t take all the presents. Only the duplicates.” “That was always the plan, Molly.” Molly looked down at the map. The little gazebo had two red Xs: one beside the gift table, the other beside a carefully drawn storage box. “I may have got carried away.” “You packed a sack, didn’t you?” “Three. One is for cake.” Bill folded the invitation and tucked it safely away. Outside, a bus rolled past, its windows crowded with children waving paper crowns. He stood and offered Molly his hand. “Come on. Captain Sparklebeard needs an assistant.” “I don’t do balloons.” “You drew yourself smiling.” Molly paid for their coffees. As they reached the door, the inflatable parrot squeaked again. She glanced at Bill. “Fine. But I want a hat.”