Run: 2026-10-08-01M4E0BTQ3601PSS2PHG90FTDK

Molly flattened herself against the back wall of the community hall, peering through a gap in the curtains. "Bill, there are forty-three children in there. I counted. Forty-three." Bill squeezed in beside her, balancing a stolen clown wig on his head and a tray of cupcakes in his hands. "Good. Less chance any of them are paying attention to us." "They're six. They pay attention to everything. That one in the dinosaur hat just licked the piñata." "Right, well, we're not here for the piñata." Bill adjusted the wig. "How do I look?" "Like a man who robbed a birthday party." "Like a professional entertainer." He held up the tray. "I brought snacks. Nobody trusts a stranger without snacks." Molly sighed and pulled a folded sheet of paper from her coat. "Okay. The plan. The presents are stacked by the stage. Eleven of them are wrapped in gold paper, which means they're the expensive ones. You grab the big box with the bow. I take the bag of small ones near the cake table." "And the rest?" "The rest are socks, probably. Nobody wraps socks in gold." Bill frowned. "What about the magician? The flyer said there'd be a magician." "Then we ignore the magician. Nobody steals from a magician. It's bad luck." "Fine. And if someone spots us?" "We say we're the replacement entertainers. Nobody questions a clown with cupcakes." "Molly, I'm not a clown." "You're wearing a wig, Bill." He touched the orange curls on his head. "It's a very convincing wig." A small voice behind them said, "Are you the clowns?" They both froze. A little girl in a yellow princess dress stood there, holding a half-eaten lollipop and staring at the tray. Molly forced a smile. "Yes, sweetheart. We're the clowns." "Are those for me?" Bill glanced at Molly. Molly glanced at Bill. The little girl waited patiently, lollipop dripping. "Of course they are," Bill said, offering the tray. "Take two. One for your friend." She beamed and grabbed two cupcakes. "You're nice clowns." "Thank you," Molly whispered. "Now, sweetheart, where's the bathroom?" The girl pointed down the hall. "Past the presents. The big ones have bows." Molly grabbed Bill's sleeve. "Did she just give us the layout?" "She did," Bill said, grinning. "Best accomplice I've ever had." "She's six." "So was I when I stole my first bicycle." Molly groaned, then straightened her shoulders. "Fine. Gold paper, big bow, let's go." They slipped through the curtains, Bill still holding the tray, Molly tiptoeing ahead, while the magician's music swelled and forty-three children erupted in cheers.