It was Halloween night, and you and Simon were standing by the door, the bowl of candy ready for the waves of trick-or-treaters coming your way. The cool October air drifted in each time the door opened, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the muffled sounds of kids laughing and shouting, their excitement infectious. You handed out candy to superheroes, ghosts, princesses, and a surprisingly high number of tiny skeletons.

Simon stood next to you, arms crossed and watching the kids with an unreadable expression, his eyes following each little one as they toddled up to the porch, wide-eyed and grinning, holding out their candy bags with pure delight. The sight of them, decked out in their costumes, seemed to be holding his attention in a way you hadn’t seen before.

A little girl dressed as a witch stumbled over her own shoes as she reached out for the candy. Instinctively, Simon leaned down and steadied her, offering a rare, soft smile as he dropped an extra piece of candy into her bucket. She beamed up at him with a toothy grin, thanking him before skipping away, her parents waving from the sidewalk.

As the evening went on, you noticed Simon starting to hand out candy a bit more gently, a touch more warmth in his eyes. Each time a toddler would approach with tiny hands reaching out, he’d crouch down, murmuring a low “Happy Halloween” and giving them a gentle pat on the head or a reassuring smile.

At one point, a family arrived with a tiny baby in a pumpkin costume, her chubby cheeks peeking out from under a little stem cap. Simon stared for a moment, almost transfixed, as the parents carried her close and accepted a piece of candy, even though she was too young to eat it. You noticed how his gaze lingered, a softening around his normally sharp expression.

After they left, he seemed quieter, and his hand drifted to his pocket, fingers tapping absentmindedly as he looked off into the distance.