Run: 2026-09-25-01M3CKGRD9QPHEY38E878MR6YA

The dim glow of a flickering streetlamp cast long shadows across the alley where Molly and Bill crouched behind a stack of discarded party decorations. The scent of stale confetti and balloon rubber hung in the air as Molly adjusted her black ski mask, the sequins she’d glued on for flair catching the light. “You sure this is the right house?” Bill whispered, squinting at the brightly lit windows where the shrieks of sugar-fueled children echoed like a pack of howler monkeys. Molly rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m sure. The invite said ‘Piñata Palace’ and there’s a giant paper donkey in the yard. It’s not rocket science, Bill.” Bill scratched his chin. “Yeah, but what if they’ve got, like, a guard dog? Or a clown?” “A clown?” Molly scoffed. “Since when are you afraid of clowns?” “Since always. Those things are terrifying.” Molly sighed. “Focus. We go in through the back, grab the presents, and slip out before the cake’s even cut. Easy.” Bill shifted nervously. “And if someone sees us?” “Then we’re just the world’s most enthusiastic party crashers.” She patted the oversized gift bag slung over her shoulder. “Now stop stalling. The sooner we get in, the sooner we’re out.” Bill took a deep breath. “Alright, alright. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you.” “Noted.” Molly grinned. “But if we don’t, you’re buying the first round.” They crept toward the back door, the sound of laughter and popping balloons growing louder. Molly tested the knob—unlocked. She shot Bill a triumphant look. “Told you. Parents are too busy herding kids to lock up.” Bill swallowed hard. “What’s the plan once we’re inside?” “Stick to the edges, avoid the adults, and for the love of all things holy, don’t make eye contact with any kids. They’ve got a sixth sense for weirdos.” Bill nodded, though his hands were already sweating. “And the presents?” “Under the tree, probably. Or in a pile by the cake. Just grab and go.” They slipped inside, the warmth and chaos of the party enveloping them. Molly spotted the mountain of gifts near the fireplace and elbowed Bill. “Jackpot.” Bill’s eyes widened. “That’s… a lot of LEGO sets.” “And they’re all ours.” Molly moved forward, but Bill grabbed her arm. “Wait. What’s that?” He pointed to a small figure in a party hat, staring right at them. Molly followed his gaze and froze. A kid, no older than five, was holding a juice box and watching them with unnerving curiosity. Bill’s voice was a panicked whisper. “We’re busted.” Molly forced a smile and waved. The kid waved back. Then, with a shrug, he turned and toddled away. Bill exhaled. “That was close.” Molly grabbed a armful of presents. “Relax. Kids see weird stuff all the time. They’ll just assume we’re part of the entertainment.”