Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YEQH38ZMMXR4VFZN6JJWSM

Molly spread a crayon map across the café table. A purple square marked the presents. A brown blob marked the guard dog, though Bill thought it looked more like a potato. “The party starts at two,” Molly said. “We go in at two-fifteen, while the children are distracted by the magician. We take every present and leave before anyone sings.” Bill studied the map. “I’ve been to children’s parties. The magician isn’t a distraction. He’s a man being hunted by twelve small people who know where his rabbit is.” Molly weighted down one corner of the map with a sugar bowl. The other corner was held by a photograph of a bouncy castle. “Fine. We use the castle instead. You bounce near the entrance, draw a crowd, and I slip inside wearing the clown costume I borrowed from your brother.” “My brother isn’t a clown,” Bill said. “He sells insurance. That’s his suit.” Molly considered the photograph again. Someone had written NO SHOES on the castle’s entrance, underlining it three times. Bill’s boots had sixteen eyelets each. “Then you can be the insurance salesman. Parents love those. Talk about premiums until they’re too frightened to watch the present table.” “Parents don’t love insurance salesmen. They pretend not to be home. Once, Mum hid under the stairs for an hour while my brother rang the bell.” Molly took the sugar bowl off the map and drew a dotted line from the gate to the kitchen. The brown dog-potato straddled it like a furry tollbooth. “We’ll go through the kitchen. You bring sausages for the dog. I bring the sack. We’re out through the back before the magician finishes his first trick.” “What if the dog doesn’t like sausages? My brother’s dog only eats salmon and the corners of expensive books.” “Bring both, then. And something by a famous author. We’re not amateurs.” Bill made a note on a napkin. He added a question mark after “salmon,” then another after “famous author.” Molly watched him fold it into his pocket. “Once we have the presents, we’ll sort them at my place. Anything valuable gets sold. Anything educational gets donated. Anything that makes noise goes in the canal.” “What about the birthday child? Won’t she be upset?” “Of course she’ll be upset. That’s why we leave a note saying the presents have been taken on an exciting adventure.” Bill frowned at the map. Outside the café, a delivery van passed with a picture of a smiling cartoon giraffe on its side. He waited until it had gone. “That sounds cruel,” he said. “Could we at least leave her one present?” Molly sighed. “All right. One. But we choose it, and it had better be educational.” “Good. My brother gave her a book about insurance. I’ll put it back on the table.” Molly folded the map. “Bill, sometimes I worry we’re the villains.” “You’re the one putting the book back,” he said.