The sun creeps away sooner and sooner, giving way for butternut squash soup, garlic bread, and hot apple cider with cinnamon sticks. i accidentally dropped mine in my apple cider last night, then kept burning the tips of my already-tender fingers playing a fisherman. I sucked on the end of my right pointer finger, tasting cider, a piece of cinnamon, and a little bit of chalk from training on the wall earlier. it radiates heat, looks red and a little purple on the exact spot where my fingers kept sliding off the sloping hold.
it feels better fast, healed with the feeling of fall and the smell of the pumpkin bread my roommate has cooling on my cookie racks. tomorrow i'm going to roll out dough for almond cookies, cut like ghosts and causing smiles and content stomachs.
i squish down deeper into the couch, surrounded with blankets made by friends that gloriously don't match, a mix of bright blue and green with empty swimsuits dancing clashing with a crochet baby yellow and white wrapped around my feet. you put in 28 days later, continuing our horrorfest to celebrate my favorite holiday. i hide my eyes when the blood gushes, squirming but enjoying the feeling of contentment at sharing a night at home with friends. you reheat another cup of cider for me, ask me if I'll sleep at all tonight.
i'll be fine.
stop bugging me.
he doesn't know i'm leaving the christmas lights on to scare off any zombies.
this morning felt like the opening scene of the movie on my walk for coffee.
the streets were quiet.
the gales of november screamed off the lake.
i thought i was alone.
then i passed the empty popcorn wagon and started.
i walked closer, and i could see the napkin dispenser through her shoulder.
her red hat blurred off the shiny oven in back.
she looked like me, but she was an echo, an afterthought, a reflection.
or am i the reflection?
the wind wound around the wisps of my braid and i walked away, shivering, trying to keep away the moment of unknown i encountered in the window of the popcorn wagon.
but secretly hoarding the thrill in my torso.
it is, after all, almost Halloween.