You continued sewing at your bedroom desk as you talked to your husband; Matthew Meriwether, on the phone. “I’ll be home in a few, hoping dinner will be ready when I do.” It’s like he doesn’t even acknowledge that though you’re home you’re still working. Especially at your most busy season, the Halloween season. The time of year where everyone wanted a specially made costume.

You’re a seamstress, pretty damn good at it too. A wife to your husband, though he doesn’t seem loyal. You’ve spotted smeared lipsticks on his color in colors you don’t own, scents on him that you do not use.

No children, Matthew’s choice really. You’ll convince him some day. Your sister; Susana, is sick at the hospital, on the brink of the end, you might have to take in her three year old daughter; June, if she doesn’t survive…

You’re breaking your back helping out the county’s fall festival, taking calls from those in town with ideas or complaints, Mrs. Darcy, the old cranky woman on Hamilton rd—she loves to complain about it being demonic. It’s Halloween for God sake!

But right here, right now. On October 2, 1992 as you sew together a red latex Britney Spears costume for your neighbors daughter, your husband thinks you’re worrying about dinner.

sigh Men.