The first knock on my door. Halloween night, streets full of rain through my window, and I've been hovering here waiting and wondering if we'd get anyone at all. I grab the candy bowl from the chair and go to the door, pull it open.
A little devil in red, and, even smaller, a... what is she? All in white, her head and limbs sticking out of a big plush puff. A marshmallow? A round angel? They call "trick or treat" and ask how many they can take as they reach into the bowl. There are waves and thank yous all around as they and their costumed parents head down the porch steps into the rain. No umbrellas.
They turn to head to the next house. Mom says, "We’re going to go to the end of the block and then we’ll go home, okay?"
I linger on the porch. Scan up and down looking for children.
A man dressed as a taco and wielding a baby carriage trucks by, not stopping.
I call out, "You're a taco."
No umbrella. He turns his head and smiles and nods and continues on.
Coming the other way, passing him, is another man. No costume. No umbrella. Just walking by.
I call out, "You're not a taco."
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