A stranger asks if I know what I’m going to be for Halloween.
I hesitate because I’m just not sure yet. But she mistakes the hesitation for fear.
“Yeah, you look like someone who hides at home with the doors locked.”
On one level she’s right; Halloween scares the bejesus out of me. But on another level she’s wrong, because it’s Halloween, which gives me the right to dress up like the kind of person/monster that would cause me to hide at home and lock the door. It’s all very personal, so I decide to ask what she plans on being.
“A witch,” she says without hesitation. “I’m always a witch. Every year.”