Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2BGJ6P62GGRFEHPN7A16D

Molly crouched behind the hydrangeas with her binoculars trained on the Hendersons' back garden, where thirty-one children in paper crowns shrieked around a bouncy castle shaped like a unicorn. Beside her, Bill wheezed inside a foam carrot costume that had clearly been designed for someone shorter, younger, and less regretful. "Why am I a carrot?" he whispered. "The invitation said Veggie Village," Molly said. "Nobody questions a carrot." "Everybody questions a forty-three-year-old carrot." "Then be a confident one." She lowered the binoculars and pointed at the patio, where a mountain of gift-wrapped boxes glittered beneath a banner reading HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY, PRUDENCE. Sunlight bounced off the ribbons so brightly it looked like a vault protected by a laser grid, if the vault had been decorated by glitter. "Forty presents, one table," she murmured. "Guarded by a clown, a grandmother, and a dog." "What kind of dog?" "Small. Fluffy. Emotionally unstable." Bill swallowed, and his leafy green hat wobbled. "And the clown?" "Balloon animals only. But he's got a look in his eye, Bill. Like he's seen things." She unfolded a napkin covered in arrows, circles, and a crude drawing of a wagon. Bill squinted at it the way a man squints at his own tax returns. "Here's the plan. You waddle in and announce the piñata is ready. Every child stampedes to the far lawn. I roll the wagon in, load the presents, and we're gone in ninety seconds." "What piñata?" "The one you're holding." "I'm holding a piñata?" "You're the piñata. The carrot is the piñata. It's called commitment." Bill stared at her. A drop of sweat rolled down his nose and vanished into the foam. "Molly, I've cracked safes. I've dangled from a skylight in Antwerp. I will not be beaten by children with sticks." "They're six. They hit like damp bread." "Some of them have *reach*." Molly ignored this, adjusting her own costume, a giant pea pod with a zipper that had already snagged her ponytail twice. She looked less like a criminal mastermind and more like a lunchtime salad that had given up on life. Across the garden, the clown twisted a balloon into something that might have been a giraffe or a tragic accident. The grandmother dozed in a lawn chair. The fluffy dog trembled beneath the gift table, glaring at the world with wet, suspicious eyes. Then a small girl in a dinosaur costume wandered toward the hydrangeas, sucking a lollipop. She stopped. She looked directly at Bill. Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "CARROT!" she screamed, in a voice that could have shattered crystal. "THE CARROT IS HERE!" Thirty-one heads swiveled in perfect unison. The clown dropped his giraffe. The dog began to bark like a smoke alarm. Bill whimpered. Molly sighed, tugged her pea pod hood low over her face, and patted his leafy head. "Well," she said. "Looks like we're moving up the schedule."