by Mary Bowers
“Don’t forget the zombies,” Justine added. “They’re staggering all over town, groaning and dangling eyeballs.”
I waxed nostalgic. “Back when I was a kid, the boys who didn’t want to bother with costumes would just smear dirt on their faces and come as bums. They were too old and dignified to wear a costume, but young enough to still want the candy. I guess zombies are more interesting than bums, anyway.”
The sky had become an indigo dome over the golden light of the streetlamps, and as we stood idly watching a group of kids charging up the other side of the street, a Tropical Breeze patrol car cruised slowly down it. The officer waved to us.
We waved back, and I called out, “Happy Halloween.”
Everybody answered me – the cop, the kids, and Justine and Florence.
“Happy Halloween, Taylor.”
Happy Halloween, Tropical Breeze.
AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ALL OF YOU
The End