Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PYVZ80XWPMNJ7C02W0CXS

Bill spread the blueprints across the hood of the getaway van. They were not blueprints. They were a birthday invitation, decorated with glitter unicorns, which Bill had stolen from a lamppost that morning. Molly studied it through her sunglasses, which she wore at night for professional reasons. "Seven-year-old. Bouncy castle. Forty guests. Easy," Bill said. "Forty presents," Molly breathed. She had planned bank jobs. She had planned museum jobs. Once, memorably, she had planned a submarine job, though the less said about that, the better. But nothing compared to the sheer, glittering potential of a pile of wrapped boxes guarded only by exhausted parents and a clown named Mister Pickles. Bill unfolded his disguise: a purple dinosaur costume, slightly singed. Molly had a balloon animal kit and a forged entertainer's license. The plan was elegant. Bill would distract the children with interpretive dance while Molly twisted balloon swords and slipped presents into the dinosaur's hollow tail. There was only one flaw, and Bill raised it nervously, hand trembling like a first-time pickpocket. "What if they want cake?" Molly lowered her sunglasses. She had anticipated everything, including frosting-related contingencies. "Then we take the cake, too, obviously." Bill wiped away a tear.