Run: 2026-10-06-01M48VXX7JY190N09MJDMWA4DY

The warehouse smelled of rust and forgotten dreams, which Molly found oddly comforting. She spread the blueprints across a crate of expired party favors, her finger tracing the route to the gift table. "Bill, you're staring at the bounce house again." She didn't look up. She knew that particular silence, the way he fixated on anything inflatable. Last month it had been a parade float. Before that, a water park. "I'm calculating structural integrity," Bill said, though his voice carried that particular wobble that meant he was imagining himself inside it. "If we time the extraction during the cake song, the sugar rush gives us forty-five seconds of chaos." Molly marked the exit route with a red pen. "The cake song is seventeen minutes in. We have twelve." "Conservative." "Realistic. You bounced for three hours on a mattress in Secaucus." Bill finally turned, sheepish. "It was research." "For what?" "For this." He tapped the blueprint. "Children's parties. Unpredictable. Joyful. The presents are usually unguarded, stacked near the exit, forgotten in the frenzy." He paused. "It's poetic, Molly. We take from celebration. We become the thing they'll remember." Molly rolled up the blueprints. "We become felons with a minivan full of Paw Patrol." "Same energy." She almost smiled. Almost. "Saturday. Nine AM. Don't bring your enthusiasm." "I'll bring my professionalism." "You'll bring both. You always do."