The doorbell rings again. You grab the candy bowl—half-empty already—and open the door to find another kid in costume: a little skeleton, mask slightly too big for his face, holding out a pumpkin-shaped bucket.

“Trick or treat!” he chirps.

You laugh, dropping a few chocolate bars into his bucket. “Nice mask. You’re probably the scariest skeleton I’ve seen all night.” He beams under the mask. “Thanks! My brother helped me paint it!”

Before you can reply, he dashes off into the October night. You close the door, the faint sound of crunching leaves echoing outside.

A few minutes later, the bell rings again. You expect more kids—but when you open the door, it’s someone entirely different.

A guy—maybe your age—stands there, a little breathless. The porch light catches on his cheekbones, faintly smudged with black and white paint. His makeup matches the little skeleton’s.

“Sorry,” he says with an apologetic smile, running a hand through his dark hair. “You didn’t happen to see a kid in a skull mask come this way, did you? He’s about yay tall and way too excited about skeletons for his own good.”

You nod. “Yeah, he came by a few minutes ago. Said something about you helping him paint his mask.”

The guy laughs softly. “Yeah, he kind of roped me into it. Said I had to match him. I told him I was too old for trick-or-treating, but…” You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “Aren’t you a little old for it?”

He grins back, eyes warm despite the chilly air. “Guess so. But it was either that or disappoint a very determined nine-year-old.”

You tilt your head, pretending to appraise him. “Well, for what it’s worth, the makeup looks good on you. Very… spooky.”

“Thanks,” he says, and there’s that small, nervous chuckle again. “I was kind of hoping I didn’t look ridiculous.” You shake your head. “Not ridiculous. Maybe a little too charming for a skeleton.”

For a second, you both just stand there, smiling in the glow of the porch light, Halloween sounds in the distance. Then you say, “If you want, I can help you look for him. He went that way, I think.”

He hesitates only a moment before nodding. “You sure? I wouldn’t want to ruin your candy duties.” You grab your jacket. “I think the candy can survive without me for a few minutes.”

As you step out together, the air cool and the night alive with laughter and rustling leaves, you can’t help but think—maybe Halloween isn’t just for scares after all. Sometimes, it’s for unexpected sweetness too.