Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PG30C16W8D8NCZEYKGVFF

Molly spread the blueprint across the hood of the getaway van, which was actually an ice cream truck with its jingle permanently stuck on Greensleeves. The blueprint was also not a blueprint. It was a birthday invitation, covered in glitter unicorns, that Bill had peeled off a lamppost. Bill leaned in, squinting at the rainbow lettering. He traced the route with a finger sticky from a stolen lollipop: through the side gate, past the bouncy castle, under the snack table, straight to the presents stacked beside the cake like a small, extremely festive treasury. "What's security like?" Molly asked. "Twelve six-year-olds. One clown. Possibly a grandma." Molly nodded grimly. She had met clowns. One had once twisted her into a balloon giraffe so tightly it took three firefighters and a pin to free her. The plan was elegant. Bill would pose as a magician and distract the guests with the only trick he knew, which involved losing a coin permanently. Molly would slip behind the hydrangeas and fill a sack with every shiny box in sight. "And if the birthday girl notices?" Bill swallowed hard. "Then we run. Fast." Somewhere down the street, a six-year-old sharpened a plastic sword and waited.