Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TB6592B68J0MF7K97XV3NQ

Bill spread the map across the hood of the Buick, anchoring the corners with a half-eaten burrito and one of Molly's socks. "That's a coloring book page," Molly said. "It's the community center. Timmy's mom posted photos online. I just added the bouncy castle." Molly squinted at the crayon lines. "Why is the bouncy castle labeled 'danger zone'?" "Have you ever been inside one? They're lawless. No one comes out the same." Molly opened her duffel bag to reveal a clown wig, two water pistols, and a beige cardigan. "The cardigan makes us look like parents," she said. "You look like a substitute teacher who cries in her car." She held the cardigan against her shoulders and checked her reflection in the old Buick's side mirror. "Perfect. Parents trust her. That's the whole job, Bill. Look trustworthy and carry a big bag." Bill tapped the map with a glitter pen. The plan was simple. They'd arrive at two, during the magician, when every eye in the room would be glued to a man pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Molly would create a diversion near the cake table. Bill would sweep the gift table into a garbage bag disguised as a gift bag, which he had labeled in advance for authenticity. He had practiced the sweep in his garage with a folding table and a stack of phone books, and it had gone beautifully except for the noise. "Wait," Molly said. "Read what your bag says." "It says 'presents.' So nobody questions it." "It says 'STOLEN presents.'" Bill rotated the bag slowly. "Huh. The 'stolen' was supposed to go on the inside." "Your penmanship is why we can't have nice things." "We're thieves. We're not supposed to have nice things. That's the whole point of the profession." Molly crossed her arms and looked at the map, then at the bag, then at the horizon, where somewhere a six-year-old was probably practicing his happy birthday face in a mirror. "These are kids, Bill. Little kids. With little faces." "Little faces that don't need forty presents. We're doing them a favor. It builds character." "What character does it build when your Nerf gun gets stolen?" "Resilience. Grit. Timmy will thank us at his graduation." "Timmy's dad is a cop." Bill went quiet for a moment, folding the map very slowly, the way a man folds when recalculating his entire life. "Okay," he said. "New plan. Same plan, but faster, and we don't touch anything shaped like a badge." "And the cardigan stays," Molly said, pulling it on. "The cardigan stays. But if the magician sees through us, I'm not saving you." "He's a birthday magician, Bill. He once pulled a rabbit out of a hat." "Exactly. If he can do that, God knows what else he can pull out of there." They got in the Buick. Molly adjusted the wig in the mirror. Bill put the car in drive, then paused. "We're good people," he said. "We're stealing birthday presents from a child." "Good people, bad errands." He started the engine. It coughed, considered, and finally committed to the crime.