Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PGP7TJZHQ2C6T7VEHJB43

Molly crouched behind a bouncy castle, binoculars pressed to her face. "There. The present table. Twelve gifts, maybe thirteen." Bill scribbled on a napkin. "Thirteen's unlucky." "It's twelve, Bill." "Then why'd you say maybe thirteen?" "Because I couldn't count the one shaped like a pony." Bill squinted across the yard. "That's a piñata." "It's wearing a bow." Nearby, a clown inflated balloon animals, his squeaking constant and deeply unsettling. Somewhere a child shrieked with joy. "Here's the plan," Molly whispered. "You distract the kids. I load the wagon." "With what am I distracting them? I don't do children, Molly. They smell like juice and secrets." "Tell them you're entertainment." Bill gestured at his black turtleneck. "I look like a burglar who reviews jazz albums." "Then improvise. Do a magic trick." "I know one magic trick." "Which is?" "Making myself unemployed by agreeing to this." Molly checked her watch, ignoring him. "Cake's at three. We go during the sugar rush. Nobody notices a theft when there's frosting involved." Bill sighed and stuffed the napkin into his pocket, eyeing the clown with genuine dread. "Fine. But if that pony thing turns out to be real, I'm keeping it."