Run: 2026-10-06-01M48W366T3R6S4SXSVYGCWCBX

Molly spread the party invitations across the kitchen table like a deck of cards, each one glittering with unicorns and princesses. Bill leaned over her shoulder, his coffee growing cold. "They're eight," Molly said. "Eight-year-olds. The presents will be in the living room, probably near the cake table." "And the parents?" "Drunk on boxed wine by hour two. I checked the host's Instagram. She posts everything." Bill tapped the invitation for a princess-themed party at the Hendersons' house on Maple Street. "You want to rob a child's birthday party." "I want to rob the parents who bought a Nintendo Switch for a kid who already has three gaming systems. Think of it as redistribution." "Think of it as a felony with a minimum sentence." Molly grabbed her coffee and drank it cold. "Bill, last month you suggested we hit a retirement home bingo night. I said no because I have a soul. This is different. These kids have too much." "That's not how theft works." "That's exactly how theft works. You take from people who have excess. The Hendersons have a pool. A pool, Bill. Their eight-year-old doesn't need a pool and a Switch and probably a pony." Bill rubbed his temples. "We're not stealing from children. We're stealing from parents who love their children." "Excessive love. Toxic love. Love that needs to be taxed." The doorbell rang. Molly and Bill froze. Through the peephole, they saw Mrs. Patterson from next door holding a casserole. "Don't answer," Bill whispered. "She'll think we're dead." "Then we'll be dead. Answer it." Molly opened the door with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Mrs. Patterson! What a surprise." "Made you some tuna noodle," the woman said, pressing the dish forward. "Heard you two talking about diets last week. Thought you might need real food." Molly accepted the casserole and closed the door. "She thinks we're a couple." "We are a couple. A criminal couple. It's very romantic." "She thinks we're a married couple with eating disorders." Bill took the casserole and sniffed it. "Is this... is this tuna?" "It's probably cat food. She hates us." "She brought us food." "She's mocking us. Passive-aggressive Midwestern warfare." Molly returned to the table and pointed at the invitation. "Saturday. Two PM. We dress as party entertainers." "I am not dressing as a clown." "You're dressing as a clown, Bill. You have the face for it. Round nose, permanent frown, the whole thing." "I have a dignity." "You stole a parking meter last year." "I was testing my skills." "You put it in your bathtub." "For safekeeping!" Molly laughed, the sound sharp and sudden. "Fine. You don't have to be a clown. Be a magician. Disappear the presents." "Magicians don't steal. They create illusions." "Then create the illusion that the presents never existed. Poof. Gone. The kids will think it's magic." "They'll be devastated." "They'll get over it. Kids are resilient. They'll make new friends at the party. They'll forget the presents by dessert." Bill stared at her, really stared, and Molly felt something shift in her chest. "You're serious." "I'm always serious. That's my problem. I take things seriously that other people laugh about. Like justice. Like fairness. Like making sure no child has more video games than they can possibly play." "And if we get caught?" "Then we go to prison. Together. Finally get to spend real time together without Mrs. Patterson interrupting." Bill was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached across the table and took her hand. "You're impossible." "I know." "You're also the only person who ever made me want to steal a pony." Molly squeezed his hand. "We're not stealing a pony. We're stealing a Switch." "Same energy." Outside, Mrs. Patterson's car started and pulled away. The casserole sat on the counter, growing cold, full of something that was probably not tuna. "Saturday," Molly said. "Saturday," Bill agreed. And somewhere in the city, a child unwrapped a present early, not knowing that two thieves were already planning its second life.