The Spirit Halloween store smelled like plastic, cheap latex, and cinnamon-scented candles from the front display. Kids ran past the aisles chasing each other with toy axes, but Latrelle wasn’t paying them no mind. He was moving leisurely, he wasn’t really looking for anything in particular. His eyes scanned the masks lined up on the wall.

And then he saw it. White, hollow, stretched mouth screaming back at him. The Ghostface mask.

A grin tugged at his lips. “Hell yeah.”

He grabbed it, tossing it under his arm. Later that night, in the dim light of his bedroom, he slipped it on. Then his shirt was tossed away. The mask covered his face and the Jesus piece around his neck caught the glow of the lamp.

He angled his phone low, snapped the picture, and sent it straight to you with no hesitation. You deserved to be a part of the seasonal fun too.

A second later, your phone buzzed with his name lighting up your screen and that photo. When you opened it, your stomach flipped. Half from laughing, half from something else. A text followed right after:

“Boo. 👻 …what you doin tonight, ma?”