Run: 2026-09-29-01M3P2D4M0WR6068D4T0TPHDAF

Molly crouched behind a hedge shaped like a giraffe, binoculars pressed to her face, while Bill wrestled with a sandwich wrapper that crackled like fireworks. "Bill," she whispered, "put the sandwich away." "It's egg salad. It's quiet food." "It's crinkling." Bill sighed and stuffed it into his balaclava, a decision neither of them would examine later. Across the lawn, the Henderson house pulsed with balloons and shrieks. A banner read HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY, TOBY! Beneath it, a mountain of wrapped boxes sat on a folding table guarded by one teenager in a dinosaur costume, scrolling through his phone. "Forty-two presents," Molly said. "One bouncy castle. Twelve parents. Zero security." "What about the dinosaur?" "The dinosaur is on his break. Spiritually." Bill squinted. "He's wrestling with his tail." "Good. That's our window." Molly lowered the binoculars. "You go in as the magician." "I'm not a magician." "You're wearing a cape." "It's a rain poncho." "Nobody will know the difference. Distract the kids with a rabbit." Bill blinked. "We don't have a rabbit." "We have the ferret." "The ferret bites, Molly." "Then it's an edgy magic show." Bill groaned, but he tugged the poncho straight and hoisted the cage, from which Gerald the ferret glared with the contempt of a much larger animal. "Cake in three minutes," Molly said. "Every adult will be gathered around the candles, filming. That's when I move in with the wagon." "Toby's going to cry," Bill said, suddenly sober. "Toby has a pony coming at four. Toby will be fine." From the house came a chorus of "Happy Birthday," off-key and thunderous. Molly tapped Bill's shoulder, and he marched across the lawn, poncho flapping, ferret rattling, egg salad crackling from his balaclava like a tiny campfire. Molly rolled the wagon toward the table. The dinosaur looked up. She froze. He raised a foam claw in a weary wave, then returned to his phone. She began loading boxes, reading the tags as she went. "Sorry, Emma. Sorry, Jacob. Sorry, Little Chad." Then a scream split the air. "Not the face, Gerald!" Children roared with delight. Someone yelled, "Again!" Molly peeked around the table. Bill stood on a picnic bench with the ferret dangling from his sleeve, thirty children chanting his name, parents applauding wildly. One mother wiped her eyes and shouted, "Best magician ever!" Molly looked at the wagon, half full of stolen joy, then at Bill, who was taking a bow and dripping egg salad onto the grass. She sighed, pulled out her phone, and texted him: *Get their numbers. We're booked for next week.* Then she went back to loading the wagon.